


Repurcussion

by DracoWinchester7237



Series: Echoes [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Poor Thomas, Sorry Not Sorry, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-04 21:41:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoWinchester7237/pseuds/DracoWinchester7237
Summary: Thomas came to slowly.His mind hovered somewhere between asleep and awakeHe knew he needed to wake up,but the place he was in was so peacefulHe wanted to stay here forever.





	1. Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> aaaaannnnnddddd were back! part two chapter one and the series continues. 
> 
> I'm still working on a lot but this chapter is pretty set in stone so figured id go ahead and publish it
> 
> I hope you have fun! 
> 
> and, of course, don't forget to let me know what you think!

Thomas came to slowly. His mind hovered somewhere between asleep and awake, where you can kind of hear what’s going on around you and you’re aware of the passing time but you still have one foot in your dreams and you can't seem to open your eyes. He could hear conversations floating above him, but he couldn't make out the words. He knew he needed to wake up, but the place he was in was so peaceful, probably one of the first good night's sleep in his memory. Nobody was screaming in his head, memories of death and pain didn't haunt him. He wanted to stay here forever. Content to float in this in-between as long as he could.

The words that floated in the space around him grew clearer if he concentrated, which he didn't care to do. It wasn't till he heard the word WICKED that consciousness crashed down on him without warning.

The first thing he became immediately aware of was the gentle throbbing in his leg. His eyes opened without permission and he was greeted by a white ceiling. Everything was so bright, and white, everything he could see was white. Thomas sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes closed again, fighting down the panic that rose in his throat like bile. He stayed there completely rigid with his eyes screwed shut just breathing for a long time.

When finally he forced himself to calm down he opened his eyes again. Nothing was the same as that white room. Even the white itself was off. Plus there was a very obvious door directly in front of him. He continued surveying the room and saw a man leaning back in a chair in the corner of the room. Thomas watched the man for a long time before he decided he must be asleep. He did notice the gold star looking badge, and Thomas's WICKED uniform laying on the side table next to him. He figured it was the cop that was supposed to be guarding him.

He looked down at himself when he was confident the cop wouldn't wake up. His leg was propped up on some pillows and his arm had an IV in it. He stared at the bag of clear liquid and decided he didn't want to know what it was. He gripped it with his free hand and in one easy motion ripped the needle out of his arm, wincing slightly as he did it. There was a rail on either side of his bed and he couldn't quite figure out how to move it without making far too much noise and waking up the cop. Instead, he swung his good leg over the side easily and had to work to get his bad leg over too before pushing himself onto the floor, careful not to land on his hurt leg. The landing wasn't graceful, his good knee buckled and he fell forward in the process, knocking over the IV stand.

“Son?” the cop asked groggily, and Thomas cursed under his breath, forcing himself up and half limping half throwing himself through the door where he lost balance again and had to catch himself on the wall.

There were too many people. It felt like they were converging on him and his stomach churned with his sudden movement. He could see people heading towards him in the same all-black uniforms as the people that came to them in WICKED. One of them caught up to him easily, but before he could do anything Thomas lunged at him, throwing all his weight into him and grabbing for his gun.

“Whoa whoa. Hey now, relax son, it's alright.” Thomas looked up to where the cop from his room was now standing in front of him. Thomas tightened his hold on the gun and brought it down hard on his head, knocking him out before he stood and pointed it at the other man.

“I want to see my friends” he shouted.

“They'll be here soon stiles, put the gun down. Scott’s bringing your friends.”

“Who the shuck are you talking about? Where’s Minho, where's,” his voice caught in his throat, “where's Newt?” he glanced around him for some sign of an exit. Spotting the elevators he took small steps toward them, his leg loudly protesting the movement. He bit down hard on his lip.

“Son, please.” the man sounded like he was about to break but Thomas didn’t stop to question it. The elevators were so close. He saw one begin to open and without looking back at the man he threw himself into the open elevator immediately falling hard on his leg, he could hear running and almost cried in relief of the doors closing right before the cop could reach them.

Thomas was shaking on the floor of the elevator when the doors opened again. A woman stepped in barely even glancing down at him before she hit a button and the doors closed. When she turned around to look at him he pointed the gun at her, hoping she wouldn't notice how violently it was shaking. She took a step closer to him and knelt down in front of him. The gun came close to touching her head as she did this.

“I'm going to take a look at this leg, okay?” she said not really waiting for him to say anything before gently pulling the red soaked bandage off. “You opened your stitches, Stiles,” she said in a tone that almost made him feel ashamed. He gripped the gun tighter in his hand. “How about you put that down Stiles, you know I’m not going to hurt you.” he shook his head but his grip loosened enough for her to easily pull it from his hands.

“Who...” he started, his voice quivering and he forcefully swallowed the lump steadily rising in his throat.

“You've been through a lot of stiles. None of us really understand what you've been through yet, but Scott will be here soon and maybe he can help.” she looked at him for a long minute before continuing. “It's okay, stiles. You’re home now.”

“Who’s Scott?” he asked, remembering the name from earlier.

“Sweetie you've lost a lot of blood, nobody here is even sure how it's possible, you shouldn't even be conscious right now. No wonder you’re so frightened.” a sob broke in his throat and she sighed. “You need rest, Stiles. And you need to not rip open your stitches.” she motioned to his leg.

“Why do you keep calling me Stiles?” he asked, another sob escaped him. Before she could answer, the elevator doors opened. The cop from his room was standing there and it was hard to miss the relief that flashed in his face. The woman helped Thomas to stand and between the three of them, they managed to get Thomas back to his room. They got him back into the bed and the woman began cleaning his leg up.

“Son.” the cop was sitting in a chair by his bed. Thomas wiped furiously at his face. “Son, do you know who I am?” he said. Thomas looked at him and shook his head. The man looked down at his hands. “What's your name?” the cop sighed.

“Thomas,” he whispered. The two exchanged a worried glance.

“Thomas.” the cop repeated.

“Well Thomas, I’m Melissa and that is Sheriff Stilinski. I'm going need to stitch you up again soon, okay?” he nodded.

“Thomas,” the name sounded uncomfortable for the sheriff to say, “son, do you remember anything?”

“I want to see my friends.”

“Newt and Minho?” sheriff Stilinski asked. Thomas nodded.

“Do you know where they are? Are they okay?” Thomas sat up straighter. “Please, I need to see them, please.”

“I'll see what I can find out still...” Thomas looked away and the cop broke off mid-word. He cleared his throat before continuing “Thomas.”

“Thomas you can't rip your IV out this time. You’re severely dehydrated and malnourished.” Thomas just nodded at her and watched her sliding the needle under his skin. He felt something cold slide around his other wrist and he looked at the handcuffs now securing his wrist to the railing of the bed.

“No, No!” he started to pull away, feeling the cool metal against his skin.

“Listen Stiles it's for your own protection.”

“No you don't understand.” he kept pulling, feeling the metal biting into the already scarred flesh from the last time he'd been tied down. “No you can't do this, no no no.” his voice was breaking and panic quickly turned into hysteria as he used both hands to pull against the handcuffs.

“No. no. get it off.” he could hear Melissa trying to calm him down, he could hear the sheriff telling him it was just for now but all he could see were bloody ropes staining the white floor, all he could see was Newt on the other side of a window.

Thomas heard screaming but he couldn't tell if it was his own or memories of Newt. He pulled violently on his wrist. “You don't understand.” his eyelids felt heavy and he looked over to Melissa who was adding something to his iv.

“No please.” he slurred, recognizing the effects of sedatives, “please don't.” but it was too late.

“You can't do this to me.” he whimpered. Darkness drowning out his words. 


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why don't I take you home.
> 
> How do you know me,
> 
> You’re my son.
> 
> no.
> 
> Stiles is dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, guys so this chapter took a while to finish up, because of the wait I tried to make it a little longer for yall. I'm not entirely happy with it but after days of constant rewriting, this is the draft I liked the most. let me know what you think.

Thomas was back in the chair, back in the white room, back in WICKED. His wrists were tied down with razor wire sinking into his skin bordered with blood welling up around it. But it didn't matter, he couldn't feel it, at least not right now. His ears rang with the screams of his best friend. But he couldn't open his mouth. He sat unmoving and unable to blink, watching the scene play out in front of him.

Newt was in a chair, tied down similar to Thomas. He was hurt, he was always hurt, and Thomas could never quite reach him. Not without making it worse. Faceless people passed in and out of view, carving at Newts skin and prodding his mind in ways Thomas couldn't see, but based on the intensity of Newts screams he couldn't tell which was worse.

“Newt.” Thomas watched helplessly as another version of himself walked into the spotlight trained on Newt. He could see Newt’s eyes widen. Hope waging war with confusion behind them. Thomas felt himself wanting to fight again. The Thomas in front of him was talking quietly to the panicking Newt. He whispered words into his ear and behind his back, he held a gun. Thomas, the real Thomas wanted to scream. He wanted to shout warnings to his friend. But it was too late, as Newt begged for his life, pleading and sobbing, the Thomas in front of him took aim and pulled the trigger.

 

A scream ripped through his throat sending him sitting straight up and pulling desperately at his wrist. Unaware of the door to his room swing open and the light flipping on.

“Thomas?”

“Get it off, I have to get it off,” he yelled pulling against his wrist.   
“Thomas honey, calm down, talk to me.”

“He's going to die and I cant, I have to get out of here, I have to, I have to find...” Thomas couldn't get a full sentence out before the sobs would build up in his chest and choke him. When he could talk the words tumbled over each other all fighting to get out.

“Who, who are you talking about honey?” she asked, grabbing him by his shoulders and forcing him to look at her.

“Newt” he cried like the answer wasn't obvious. She nodded

“Okay, alright.”

“Please get this off of me, you don't understand.”

“You’re, um, the Sheriff is on his way right now. He has the keys. Just a little bit longer okay?” he nodded and took a shaky breath.

“Thomas... Can you tell me what happened to you?” she asked, hesitantly dropping one of her hands into his cuffed one. He shook his head.

“Okay that's alright, we don't have to talk about that,” she said, pulling a chair over and sitting next to him. “What can you tell me?”

“My name is Thomas. That's the only thing they let us keep.” he said. It felt like the Glade all over again, like there were some giant puppeteers manipulating the world around him still. Like he wasn't actually out.

He never really thought he was out, to begin with. Rescue was something WICKED liked to pretend to do a lot. But Melissa didn't feel like part of WICKED. She felt like she genuinely cared. She felt like what Thomas imagined a mother should feel like.

“Who’s they?” she asked

“WICKED.”

“Like the letters on the clothes, we found you in?” Thomas sucked in a breath.

“I’m not with them.” he shook his head violently.

“No, I know you’re not honey. I know.”

“No you don't, they made me! Don't you see? They made me, I didn't have a choice. He would have died.” he could feel hysteria pushing at him like it was just waiting for him to fall into its grasp.

“Newt?” her voice was so quiet he thought he must have made it up but he nodded all the same and her eyes said they understood. They sat in silence for a while, not all uncomfortable. He felt like he didn't have to pretend to be anything with her.

“Thomas,” she said finally breaking the silence. He looked at her but she wasn't looking at him, or rather not at his face. Her eyes were trained on his wrist and his stomach tied itself in knots. “What happened?” She asked, pulling his wrists closer to her face, inspecting them both and running cool fingers over the darker scares that wrapped all the way around his wrists.

“Nothing,” he said pulling them away.

“Stiles,” she said sternly, but he refused to make eye contact. The name sounded like it hurt her to say and he was tired of hearing it. “Thomas.” she amended, trying again to take a closer look at his wrists.

Neither of them said anything until the sheriff got there, he took one look at Thomas and worry filled his eyes.

“What's wrong, what happened?” he asked Melissa. He didn't like the way they whispered to each other, talking like he wasn’t sitting right there like he somehow missed the fact that there was something going on that they didn't want him to know. Or didn’t know how to tell him yet. He hated the way they looked at him like he was a ghost, a mix of fear both of him and of the possibility of him disappearing before his eyes.

When they finally got done with their super secret conversation the sheriff finally walked over and unlocked the handcuffs. Thomas held his now freed wrist in his hand, running his fingers over the spots that felt sore. He focused on his hands, not wanting to meet the other's eyes. Feeling their eyes on him.

“Thomas.” The Sheriff said at the same time as the door swung open, revealing a shaggy-haired boy with a god awful tattoo on his upper arm. He wanted to say the boy looked about as old as Thomas, except that Thomas didn't even know how old that was. The first thing he thought of this boy was that he looked exactly what he'd think a puppy would look like in human form.

“Stiles?” the name instantly turned Thomas's stomach over and he was starting to connect some of the dots laid so obviously out in front of him.

“Can somebody please tell me what the hell a Stiles is?” he asked, the name made him uncomfortable like he was letting everyone down by not knowing it, and it was getting harder and harder with each new person that decided to burst through his damn door. The boys face fell going from obvious excitement to pure shock to complete and utter depression so fast it had Thomas thinking his second thought about the boy, he wouldn't survive 3 minutes in the hands of WICKED.

“Honey, why don't we talk in the hallway?” Mellisa called him honey exactly like she called Thomas honey. He wasn't sure why this stuck out in his mind but it did.

“Son.” the Sheriff started

“Who was that?” Thomas asked, completely ignoring him.

“That was Scott, Scott McCall.” the sheriff sighed. “Listen, Thomas, there's a lot we need to talk about, on both sides of this, thing.” The sheriff's words were awkward and he paused at random points like he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say before he said it. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something else but Thomas interrupted him.

“How do you know me.” because that was obvious wasn’t it?

“Why don't I take you home.” the sheriff said, ignoring Thomas's question and looking anywhere but at him.

“Home?” the word had never carried much meaning to him.He didn't think he had a home, at least not a place he could call home. Home the way he knew it was Frypans cooking, Gally's brew, and Chuck talking his ear out in the hammock next to him and running the maze with Minho. That was the closest thing t a home Thomas had ever had. He didn't want anything different.

“We have a lot to talk about.” the sheriff repeated, resting his hand on Thomas's shoulder.

“How do you know me,” Thomas repeated louder pulling away from the man's touch.

“You’re my son.” the words fell out of the sheriff's mouth like a bomb exploding in Thomases heart.

“No” Thomas could barely whisper. He was told he didn't have a family. He was always fed stories of how his mom went crazy. But that was the only information they'd ever given him. He didn't think anything of it. All he could remember was WICKED.

“You’re my son.” the Sheriff repeated firmer. Thomas shook his head. No. no because that wasn't possible. no, because even if it were true he wasn't allowed to have this. Not yet. Not until he knew the rest of the surviving leaders had it. Not until he knew they were safe not until he knew this wasn't just another trick WICKED was playing on him. And even then. Thomas didn't get to have this. Not after what he did. Not after any of it.

“I'm your dad.” tears welled up in Thomases eyes, his hands blurred in his vision.

“No, you're a part of WICKED. This is a trick, its always a trick.” Thomas hated the way his voice sounded.

“no, son. I'm not. I know you must have been through hell, I can't even begin to understand what they've done to you but I promise I'm real.”

“The where were you!” Thomas screamed at the man, unaware of Mellisa in the doorway and the shaggy-haired kid behind her.

“Son, I'm sorry.”

“No. no, you don't get to be sorry. You don't understand. I don't have a father. I Never had a father.” he was yelling he knew he was yelling. He wanted to tear the needle out of his arm again to get away, to make it stop.

“Son.” the man whispered and Thomas couldn't. He shook his head harder and covered his ears with his hands. It was too much

“I'm not your son” his vision blurred more as he said the words, his head shaking back and forth slowly.

“Of course you are. You’re Stiles Stilinski. I've known you your whole life, I'd know you anywhere.”

“Stiles is dead, don't you understand! Stiles died when WICKED emptied his head. Hen they sent him up into a fucking maze like a lab rat.” he looked at Mellisa, in the doorway with tears in her eyes, the boy in front of her who stared at them shocked and confused and hurt. He didn't know these people. He didn't trust these people, and he didn't owe them a damn thing. Nobody said a word for a long time.

“I don't know what kind of life I had before WICKED. But none of it matters anymore, nothing from before the can even trust what they've done to me and my friends, the ones that actually know me, Thomas, and I don't know where they are. And I cant think about anything else until I know they’re safe.”

“It's okay son. We can find them, let me help you find them. Come home with me and we won't stop until you know they're safe.” Thomas felt the sincerity in the words and he felt like he could trust this. He wasn't ready to throw out the idea that WICKED still could be behind his rescue but he trusted the Sheriff to find his friends.

“Okay. ill let them know you're free to go.” Mellisa said walking out of the room and dragging the other boy behind her.

 

The short drive home was silent between the two. Thomas starred out the window of the police car, but he could feel the sheriff, his dads, eyes on him more than would be considered safe for someone that was driving.

Home turned out to be a small ton called beacon hills, a blue jeep that sat in the driveway to a small house with two bedrooms, and Scott leaning against the front door.

“Scott I thought Melissa told you to go home.” the sheriff started.   
“I know but I think I could help,” he said. “I think we all could”

“All?” the sheriff asked.

“Yeah, like maybe if he meets some of the pack. Er, our friends then maybe we could jog some of his memories.” Thomas hated being talked about like he wasn't there.

“You think after what you just saw at the hospital that that's the best idea, Scott?” Thomas hatted even more being treated like glass that could break with the slightest wrong move.

“I'm right here you know,” he said from his spot behind the two. Who both looked at him slightly surprised. “What?” he asked slightly self-consciously. “I hate it when you talk to me like I'm not here. Can we go inside please its freezing.” he pushed past them both to open the door to what he guessed was supposed to be his house. He stood in the doorway a moment and tried to feel some sort of familiarity. Part of him, albeit a small part, really did want to remember for the sake of his supposed dad at least.

“Stiles!” he had a face full of dark brown hair and was immediately reminded of Teressa. He shoved the girl away from him and took a step back holding his arms out in front of him. Looking at the girl closer she was nothing like Teressa. She was much taller and her hair was shorter and straight. She looked upset at the rejection and Thomas figured Scott hadn't told her much about what was going on.

"Stiles whats wrong?" she asked taking steps toward him.

"I'm, I'm not." he started backing away from her. he felt overwhelmed and the need to get away from her

"Your not what?" she kept getting closer and Thomas soon found himself backed against the wall with no way of escape.

"Him." Thomas managed to look around for somewhere to go. he made eye contact with Scott who was still arguing with the Sherriff on the front porch.

“Thomas! You want me to show you where your room is?” Scott asked pulling him away from he now angry looking girl.

“Uh, sure,” he said letting Scott pull him up the stairs.

“That was Milia,” Scott said as they walked the length of the short hallway and stopped outside a closed door. Thomas didn't know how to respond. “When I told them you were in the hospital they all rushed over here. I wasn't expecting you to not remember.” Thomas just nodded, opening a door to what turned out to be a closet and pulling the first hoodie he saw out.

“Someone needs to tell he is not stiles.” Scott didn't say anything, just watched as Thoms walked around his room, taking in everything. The silence stretched on so long Thoms wondered if Scott had even heard him.

“So uh listen, they, the people downstairs, they all missed you. We all, I just wanted you to know, even if you don't remember. I mean, I know you don't remember, but if you need help finding your friends, your other friends. Id love to help. And so would everyone else when they know whats going on.” Scott stood awkwardly in the doorway of his room. Thomas starred at the floor for a second before looking at him and nodding.

“Thanks, for the record, I'm sorry I don't remember.” Scott beamed at him.

“You're still Stiles even if you don't feel like it. You still do anything for the people you care about. If you want us to leave just tell me okay?” with that Scott left Thomas alone in his room.

Thomas hesitated for a moment. He stood in pretty much the same spot as when Scott had let him. He wanted to change into something with long sleeves. His father, the word felt odd even thinking, kept staring at his wrists and he didn't want anyone else to notice. He sighed and tugged on the sleeves of his hoodie, gripping the ends in the palms of his hands and squared his shoulders. Hed faced drivers and cranks and gally, surely another group of teens who had apparently been his friends at one point couldn't do that much harm.

“Thomas?” The Sheriff asked appearing in his doorway making him jump.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to make them leave?’” he asked. Thomas thought about it for awhile.

“How do you think we're going to find them?” Thomas asked quietly.

“Your friends? I'm not sure yet. I already searched their names but I'm thinking yours wasn't the only one to change.” Thomas nodded thinking that probably made a lot of sense.

“You said we had a lot to talk about?”

“Yeah. I'm not sure how to do any of it. I need to know what happened to you over the last few years and there's a lot you don't know about Beacon Hills that id just as soon not tell you but”

“Are the people downstairs a part of what you have to tell me?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah, they're pretty much all of what I have to tell you.”

“Then lets trade stories, might as well get it over with, put it all out there.” The sheriff nodded but neither of them moved.

“Son, you don't have to. Not to a group of people like this.” Thomas nodded biting his lip. “Look, we can send them home, it can be just me and you and Scott. Scott can tell everyone else later.”

“No, most of it I can tell everybody,” he said.

“And you're sure it's not too soon.”

“It might already be too late,” Thomas said under his breath as he left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're all probably wondering about Newt. well, you'll just have to be a little bit patient for a little bit longer. I promise he is around here somewhere.


	3. Derek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not who you all want me to be.
> 
> You're with them, aren't you?
> 
> what is everyone hiding from me?
> 
> you have to remember something, you have to remember me...
> 
> you're not him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND we're back! with chapter Three!!!! I'm super excited about this one guys but I mean well I guess ill see how yall feel about it. I did a thing there at the end. I did a horrible thing but sue me (don't actually you'd get like 3 bucks) as always I hope you like it! please leave kudos and comments and whatnot. hope you have fun! (oh and I know well I think I know that some of you are getting really impatient waiting for newt to show up, but I promise if you stick with it for just another chapter or so you won't be disappointed when he does make his appearance known....)
> 
> well, that's all I got enjoy!

“I'm not who you all want me to be.” Thomas cleared his throat. “I'm not Stiles.” the name still felt strange coming out of his mouth. “And as much as I wish I could be this person that you all lost, I can't say I wish this never happened.” Thomas thought of Newt. Not covered in black veins, not hunched over himself in the white room, no, he thought of Newt how he was in the Glade.

“I'm not who you all want me to be. They gave me the name Thomas. I'm not sure if they gave me that name during the years I worked for them, or if they gave me that name when they sent me up into the glade but that's all I had of myself. The name Thomas. When you wake up with no memory of who you are or where you are or why you tend to hold onto anything that gives you a sense of yourself.”

“WICKED is a group of doctors and scientists who are working towards trying to find a cure for a virus called the flare. A virus they claimed was wiping out the last of humanity bit by bit. That's probably why I must have agreed to work with them in The Beginning.” Thomas watched each person seated around the table, waiting for some sign of anger, repulsion, or some sort of backlash but none came. “Kids were immune to this disease. And so kids were their test subjects. The younger the better” he said the words bitterly, recalling one of the few memories he had from before the Maze when Ava told him about Chuck. “They didn't care for the well-being of these kids. They only wanted to study our brains, to see what makes us different than the rest of the world. We were rats in their experiments, and we were treated as such.” Thomas drummed his fingers on the table. “They even gave us a Maze.” Thomas chuckled darkly.

“A Maze? Like an actual Maze?” the guy at the back of the room asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

“A maze. Complete with dead ends, wrong turns, and no way out. At least that's what we thought. My third day in the glade we killed a Griever, the first one in two years and we found a key, the key led us out. Well, those of us that were willing to leave, some were too scared.”

“What's a Griever?” the youngest boy at the table asked. Thomas considered the boy and decided his first assessment of Scott McCall was wrong. This boy was actually what a puppy would look like in human form. He smirked at the thought.

“Imagine a spider. Not just a spider you'd find around here, I'm talking a spider the size of a tank, made of metal. Well, the legs are metal, and any kind of blade or saw you can imagine came out of them. the body? The body is made out of some sort of goo that is honestly just disgusting. But it doesn't matter. We beat them, and we lost a few of us. But that's just the beginning.” Thomas told them about Janson, escaping WICKED again, and then the scorch, he told them about finding the right arm and getting ambushed thanks to Teresa. He left out almost killing everybody, himself included, with a bomb. Then he skimmed over what happened after they got caught, ending with being ‘rescued’ again. He watched the man sitting on the other end of the table, his dad, the Sheriff, carefully as he told his story.

“I don't know where they took Newt and Minho and Fry, I don't know what happened or if they even,” he stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head before continuing. “I just need to know what's going on and why I haven't seen them yet.”

“Alright well, I've already searched the names you've given me through the names of the kids we found and it didn't match any of them. There is no Newt or Minho or, what was it? Frypan? As far as the system goes they don't exist. Which had me thinking yours was probably not the only name they changed.” Thomas nodded.

“So what do we do?” the youngest kid asked.

“Well, Liam, I'm not so sure there's much we can do, as far as my job is concerned.” the Sheriff leaned back in his seat and shared a look with Scott that made Thomas think there was something else. Something they were hiding from him. Thomas stood up, shoving the table as he did so.

“You’re with them, aren't you? you said you were my dad just to make me trust you.” his voice was low and shaky as he backed away from the faces that stared back at him in shock. “I never got out,” he mumbled, tripping over his chair as he turned ready to flee.

“Wait, son” “Stiles!” “Thomas?” Thomas heard the voices, unsure of what voice belonged to who but he didn't stop, just ran out of the room and out of the house.

  
It felt good to run again. to feel the muscles working in his legs, feel them pushing him harder and harder as he sprinted. He never thought he'd miss running the maze but here he was missing it. He pumped his arms in time with his feet and he could feel his heart beating as he put as much distance in between him and those people. He ran until his breath came in ragged gasps and his leg gave out on him, sending him tumbling to the ground. He could feel the sticky blood around where he was shot. He could feel it pulsing with his heart but he didn't care. If he was lucky he’d bleed out right here. He shook away the thought and stared up at the sky until he heard footsteps approaching him.

“When the hell did you get so fast?” he recognized Scott's voice and forced himself up on his elbows.

“I was a runner,” Thomas said as if that answered the question.

“Whats a runner?” Scott asked plopping down next to him.

“The kids who ran the maze every day trying to find a way out, and still get back before the doors closed at nightfall.” Scott nodded along with Thomas's words.

“That's crazy. Before you could barely,” Scott stopped mid-sentence. “You’re bleeding,” he said. Thomas didn't know how he would have been able to tell, it was far too dark to see the blood that soaked through his jeans.

“It's nothing,” Thomas responded pushing himself up until he was sitting up.

“No, it's not, you tore your stitches didn't you?” Scott asked, moving to roll up Thomas pant leg. Thomas immediately pulled his leg out of reach and tried to stand.

“I’m fine.” he insisted.

“You’re not fine, man. Let's go back to the house, we can get that taken care of.”

“I said I'm fine,” Thomas said again, taking another step backward. Scott moved forward, grabbing at Thomas's hand.

“No really, you're not.” Thomas stared at Scott’s hand, watching black veins move through Scott's Arm like snakes he ripped his hand out of Scott's, the sudden movement knocking him off balance. He hit the ground hard but when Scott moved to help him up he backed away as fast as he could.

“You, you have it, you have the, the flare.” Thomas struggled with the words, his mind racing trying to remember what he'd done to make the cure.

“No, I don't, were you talking about this?” Scott grabbed Thomas again and almost immediately he could see the black veins shooting up Scott's arm. “It's not the flare, or whatever. You’re in pain. I'm taking it.” Thomas stared at their hands again and became aware of the pain of his leg, and his lungs, and the pain of watching Newt being pulled away from him disappear. He didn't want it to disappear. He pulled his hand away from Scott's again.

“What do you mean, taking it? taking what the pain? how?” Thomas was trying to find the words.

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now we need to go back, they’re probably worried about you.” Scott was motioning behind him. Thomas shook his head. He couldn't go back. He couldn't face the people who looked at him like he was bound to break at any moment he couldn't face the secrets that he was sure was WICKED. He couldn't handle the idea of finally finding a home and it is ripped away from him, even if a home wasn’t something Thomas felt he deserved.

“No, what is everyone hiding from me?” Thomas asked.

“It's not that we’re hiding from you it's just... It’s really complicated.” Scott wouldn't look at him.

“Scott.”

“None of us are exactly, well, none of us are normal. But its, it's not going to make any sense right now, we have to do this back at the house. You need to get your leg checked out.”

“I don't think I can walk on it,” Thomas said, not looking at Scott.

“I can, well I could probably,”

“Can you just call my.. dad” Thomas forced the word out. “You can pick me up here in the car?” Thomas bit his lip.

“I didn't bring my phone.” Scott cursed under his breath and looked around.

“That's okay can you just go get him? I'll wait here.”

“By yourself?” Scott asked wearily.

“Yeah, I've spent plenty of time by myself a few minutes shouldn’t be too hard.” Scott seemed to be thinking really hard before nodding and taking off running the way they'd come. Thomas let out a sigh of relief before pushing himself up onto his bad leg and walking the opposite direction, deeper into the woods.

  
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Thomas turned to see the man with the dark hair who asked him about the maze, standing there glaring at him. It looked like all he knew how to do was glare. His face was perfect for it. Thomas turned back around and continued walking.

“I have to find my friends,” he said in answer

“By yourself, at night, with a bleeding leg, and no memory of the town you’re in?” Thomas kept walking until he felt someone grab his arm and spin him around.

“Let me go.”

“Stiles, you have to remember something, you have to remember me, Derek? Seriously not ringing any bells?” Thomas could see the pleading in the man's eyes but nothing came of it. Nothing felt even remotely familiar.

“Stiles is gone,” Thomas said through gritted teeth.

“No”

“I'm sorry, I really am but everything from before WICKED is gone.” he tried to pull his arm out of this Derek's grasp.

“You’re stiles.” Thomas could swear he heard him growl in his ear.

“No Stiles is dead. Stiles died the day WICKED took him.”

“Took you?” Derek chuckled low and dark, the sound sending shivers down Thomas’s spine. “Right, they took you.” Derek paused and stared at Thomas for a minute before continuing, “God, and After everything I did.. I'm not accepting this. I tried so hard stiles. I tried so hard to protect you from all the supernatural bullshit that this town attracts. I tried everything to get you to stay.”

So much of what Derek said rebounded through Thomas's head, practically screaming at him to connect the dots. But he couldn't see the bigger picture so instead, he asked, “What do you mean to stay?”

“I mean when this, WICKED approached you and you decided to go with them. I tried to convince you it was a bad idea. I followed you for days before I lost the scent.”

“You, I,” it felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs Thomas knew that WICKED told him he signed up for this but he never quite believed them. Not after the maze. But of course, he didn't remember so what did he really know?

“Do you have any idea what you've done to us all by going with them?” Thomas shook his head.

“What I did to you? What I did to you? Do you have any idea what they've done to me?” Thomas finally yanked his arm free but stayed rooted to his spot. “You can't even comprehend what I've been through.” Thomas’s hands were shaking at his sides. “You can't possibly.” his sentence died in his throat as he looked Derek in his eyes. Because those eyes had seen some things.

Thomas needed to leave. He needed to run until he couldn't run anymore, to get out of this town and to track down his friends. If they were really free they could come back here, they could try to fit into this normal life. But, If this was just another trick from WICKED then they'd fight their way out of it but this, this town, this life, these people. Without Newt, Minho, and Fry, this could never be home. Thomas started to turn. To keep walking away. But Derek caught his arm again turning him back, more gentle this time.

“Do you remember this?” Derek whispered, leaning closer to Thomas, too close. His face was hovering above his own and Thomas could feel Derek's breath on his lips. He swallowed hard and tried to take another step backward but Derek followed and soon his lips captured Thomases hard. Demanding but somehow gentle all at the same time that made Thomas's head spin.

“Please,” Derek whispered against Thomas's mouth as his tongue brushed up against Thomases lip, pleading with him to open up, to kiss him back, but instead the gesture sent Thomas slamming back in himself, he put both hands against Derek's chest and shoved him off with everything he had.

“You’re not him.” he gasped, trying to pull as much air into him as he could and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “You’re not him,” he repeated.

“Who?” his voice sounded forced, a mix of hurt and pissed off.

“Newt.” Thomas choked out the name like it was a knife slicing him open. He watched Derek when he sad the name and he could tell it cut him too. Thomas was surprised to find tears filling his own eyes.

“Know this, Thomas.” Derek spits the name. Taking a step closer until they were face to face again. Thomas's breath caught in his throat. “I'm not going to stop until I figure out a way to get your memories back.” Thomas definitely heard the growl that time, sending chills down his spine. He looked up in time to see Derek retreating deeper into the woods, leaving Thomas wondering what the hell just happened.

  
Thomas didn't have to wait long before he could hear someone calling his name. Someone that sounded a lot like Scott, and as Thomas stood there looking at the woods where the man had disappeared into, the direction he was initially heading, he sighed. He might be in a hurry to escape but he didn't even let himself consider the possibility that this was real yet. And if he had half a chance at finding his friends, he'd need numbers. And a police officer wouldn't hurt either. He started toward the voice and broke through the trees pretty quickly, realizing he hadn’t walked that far at all before he was interrupted.

“Where were you going? I thought you said you'd stay here?” Scott's face was full of worry and pain and Thomas felt guilty.

“Sorry I just had to, uh, pee,” Thomas said the first thing that popped into his mind and winced at the lameness of the excuse, but both Scott and the sheriff were laughing.

“What?” he asked self consciously.

“That's the most stiles sounding thing you've said since you woke up.” the sheriff said through his laughter. Thomas smiled at the idea of maybe he wasn't so different than what these people expected after all.


	4. Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could feel them circling around him 
> 
> Something unnatural in the way it crouched over him.
> 
> He could only stare up at the eyes that looked so much like-
> 
> and his eyes flashed blue
> 
> wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, it's been much longer then I meant this chapter to take. so sorry about that. but here we are! yayy! let me know what you think and as always kudos are much appreciated! have fun with chapter 4!

Thomas didn't know what was worse, the panic that swallowed him whole every time he found himself alone or the way Scott and the sheriff seemed to always be around. He was quickly losing sight of who he was. Thomas or Stiles. Because when he was around them he found himself changing, wanting to be the person they all miss so much but as soon as the lights were turned out he felt like he was right back in WICKED. He felt like he was being suffocated. And all the while he was getting more and more desperate to find Newt.

Sleep was something Thomas avoided like the plague. On the nights his body took over he woke up screaming from the nightmares that bordered on memories but he could never tell what was real.

For days it had been like his subconscious was trying to tell him something. Like the answers he so desperately needed were just right there within his reach and every time he managed to close his hands around it he would wake up in some of the worst pain he'd ever experienced.

He knew what it was. The chip in his head was not something he easily forgot. And it was blocking his memories from him still. Like an electrified wall every time he came close he'd be zapped so hard his head spun and he would get violently sick. But none of this stopped him from trying.

It wasn't just for the sake of these new old friends he couldn't remember. He needed to remember what happened between the time after he left with WICKED and before they sent him into the maze. He needed to remember everything he used to know about WICKED. Because he didn't think Newt and Minho actually made it out. Others did, a lot of others did, but as if WICKED knew and of course they knew that Thomas would do anything for those specific people, they wouldn't have let them get away so easily. Which meant whether this was really his old home or not it was all just another trial. Just another torturous test meant to figure out why he was the cure.

On the nights his body forced sleep on him he woke up screaming and tonight would be no different. Thomas could feel the nightmares flexing somewhere deep inside his mind. He could feel them circling around him like a pack of wolves even as he fought to keep his eyes open. He could feel them jump at him, snarling and clawing with glowing red eyes as soon as his eyes slipped closed.

  
Thomas was standing in the middle of a forest. The trees grew so tall he couldn't quite see the top of them. Maybe if the sun was out he could see the leaves overhead but all he could see was the skinny trunks disappearing into the sky. Despite being alone he could feel his hair standing on end on the back of his neck and somewhere in his head it clicked that he was being watched. Thomas ran. Tearing through the trees his feet slammed into the earth over and over pushing him forward his arms pumping at his side.

“Things are going to get bad for you, you have to trust me.” Teresa's voice sounded like a whisper, threading through the trees until it reached his ears. He pushed himself harder.

“He's going to kill me, he wants to kill me!” a woman's voice he didn't recognize screeched in his ears causing his heart to slam into his chest so hard he could almost hear it. “Don't look at me!” the same voice echoed.

A Scream filled the space around him and he stumbled just like he did in the glade, his leg folded under him and he landed face first in the dirt, clamping his hands over his ears as the scream continued shaking the ground beneath him.

“You've done excellent work, Thomas!” “you killed your mother,” “oh. Thomas, you're the reason we're in this situation, to begin with.” “and you're killing me too.” the voices, each different, raced past him and he shoved himself back to his feet pushing himself harder whipping through the trees and ignoring the branches that scratched at his face and arms and the undergrowth that wrapped around his ankles like hands.

“I hate you!” a sob broke in Thomas's throat as newts voice rang clear in his ears. Thomas kept running. He wasn't sure why but he knew he just had to keep running.

“You won't remember anyway” “don't you understand yet Thomas? There's nowhere to go! This is all that's left!” Thomas was screaming over her voice trying to drown out the words that stabbed through him like knives. Somewhere behind him, a gun went off, and then another, and another, and then he was back on the ground. Staring up and the endless trees that just disappeared into a starless sky.

“Tommy.” Newt was staring up at him. He was holding Newt and he was cured. Newt wasn't here. Thomas stared at the sky, tears leaking out of his eyes as voices filled his ears. He could hear something breathing to his right but he couldn't move. He just laid there shaking and crying as the thing approached him. Thomas starred up not wanting to turn his head to look not sure if he even could turn his head to look but it didn't matter before he could even finish his thought he could see red eyes glowing above him, he couldn't make out what they belonged to. Something unnatural in the way it crouched over him. It almost looked something close to human but the eyes were the only thing visible. Thomas couldn't move, couldn't breathe, only stare up at the eyes that looked so much like-

  
Thomas screamed. The pain washing over him as the chip rejected the memory. He screamed until he could recognize the strong arms around him. He could hear a voice in his ear. This one much more comforting than the ones he'd heard in the forest. but hed heard this voice there too.

“It's okay. It's okay. You're safe. I've got ya. It's okay.” a hand was brushing his hair out of his face and the other arm was securely wrapped around his chest. Thomas shuddered and relaxed against the man he knew was his dad.

“I'm sorry.” he choked.

“No, its okay son, you're okay now. I got ya. It's okay.” the man kept whispering ‘its okay’ over and over again until Thomas's shaking had settled and his breathing went down to an almost normal speed. “Do you want to talk about it?” The sheriff asked continuing to smooth his hair down and gently rock them back and forth. Thomas shook his head. “That's okay. You know, I can stay home today. I don't have to go to work. I can stay with you and we can talk about things if you want.”

“You should go to work,” Thomas said thickly, even though he did want him to stay. Of course, he wanted him to stay.

“You sure kiddo?”

“Yeah.” Thomas paused and sat up. “Yeah, you should go, see if you can find anything out about my friends?” Thomas couldn't hide the hope in his voice.

“Of course.” the sheriff stood and made his way to the door before turning to look at Thomas again. “I don't want you to worry. I won't stop looking for them, I'll do everything I can and then I'll do it again. We won't stop until we bring them home.” it was in the way he said home, the way he knew that Thomas wouldn't feel at home until his friends were safe. It was the way that he didn't for once doubt that they were in trouble just because Thomas had said so, that had him walking across the room and wrapping his arms around the man, half collapsing into the hug.

“Thank you,” he said with a sob.

“Of course son.” they stayed there a little longer before Thomas pulled away and wiped furiously at his eyes and nose. “Are you sure you don't want me to stay?” he asked, and it was hard to mistake the concern lurking behind the words.

“Yeah. I'm sure”

“Alright. Scott will be by later on and I left money on the counter for food.” and just like that Thomas was again left alone in his room.

He didn't go back to sleep, despite his watch reading 5:45. Instead, he took a shower, and let the hot water melt away the leftover ache in his head. He stood there until the water grew cold and bounced off his skin like tiny rocks. He shivered and turned the water off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in the middle of the white bathroom turning in small circles.

His breathing came fast and ragged. Everything blurred white around him. He leaned against the sink and stared at his reflection. It didn't feel right. Nothing about him felt right. He sucked in air that couldn't quite reach his lungs and he gripped the sink with white knuckles.

Everything was too white. He couldn't look anywhere without seeing the walls of the white room. He let out a strangled sound that sounded like something dying and threw his fist into the mirror, the glass shattering on impact and his knuckles splitting on the edges, but it wasn't enough.

He turned around and let his face fall into his hands, both broken and whole but it didn't matter. Even behind closed eyes, he could see the room he was trapped in, the room Newt was trapped in. He felt light headed and angry all at the same time. He looked up and saw the wall in front of him. He could see the bathroom wall, but it didn't matter, in his head, it was still WICKED and he threw his fist against the wall, and then he did it again, and again until he’d painted his knuckles and the wall red. Until he could breathe again.

  
“Stiles?” Thomas didn’t like that name. He didn't like that voice. He blinked hard and looked around. Thomas didn't remember ever leaving the bathroom or walking to his room, or putting clothes on but he sat wedged between his dresser and the wall with Derek fucking Hale staring down at him and could this day get any worse?

“That’s not my name,” he said, in a whisper, he thought the other man wouldn’t be able to hear

“It was your name before Thomas. Are you okay? Scott called me while he was at school, he sounded worried.” Thomas let his head fall to his knees. “I don't need a fucking babysitter. I'm not a shuck greenie anymore.” he hated the way his voice sounded almost whiney.

“Stiles, what happened to your hands?” Derek asked, ignoring Thomas and leaning closer trying to pry his hands away from his knees. He was very close. Too close. And he kept calling him Stiles. Thomas stopped thinking and lunged at Derek, swinging his fist and connecting hard with the other man’s face.

“Stiles, what the hell?” Derek growled.

“Stiles isn’t here!” he all but shouted, swinging his other fist towards him, which Derek caught far too easily. “Your little boyfriend died the day you let him leave!” Thomas spit, actually spit, in Derek’s face. He didn’t know what he was doing anymore but it clicked when Derek knocked the wind out of him. He hit the floor hard and landed on his back.

“Stiles stop,” Derek said, standing up and backing away from him. Thomas would have stopped. He could have. But he hated to be called Stiles and he hated that he hated to be called Stiles. There was so much Thomas regretted and it only fed the fire burning all over him. The worst part was that he wanted this. He needed this.

“I'm not Stiles.” he lunged again, this time Derek's fist connected before he could even try. Derek hit him hard, immediately filling Thomas's mouth with blood. Derek hit him again and his eyes flashed blue. Not blue like Teresa's were, but a deep royal blue that shouldn't be natural. He didn't have time to stare before they flickered away and he was shoved backward He laid there for a minute coughing and spewing blood onto the floor.

“I'm sorry, I didn't,” Derek was staring down at Thomas

“Was that all you got?” he asked, chuckling low in his throat. He pushed himself up and spun at Derek again, but Derek didn't hit him. He caught Thomas easily and held him an arm’s length away.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell isn't wrong with me?” Thomas screamed back, that seemed to catch Derek off guard and he stood there opening and closing his mouth. Thomas wrenched out of Derek's arms. “I don't want your pity, and I don't care what you've lost.” Thomas was tired. Tired of trying to be a different person for these people he didn't know, tired of trying to piece his life back together. He was just tired.

“Stiles, I'm sorry.” Thomas glared at Derek.

“Stop. just fucking stop.” Thomas turned away from Derek aggravated. “I'm not Stiles. My name is Thomas.”

“But you’re still him,” Derek argued.

“No! Don't you get it!” Thomas was facing Derek again. “They poured every drop of Stiles out of my head to replace it with this. With me. So I'm sorry if I'm not what you were looking for but until I get my memories back and probably even after then my name is still going to be Thomas.” Thomas watched the emotions flicker across Derek's face.

“Fine, it's almost 3, Scott will be here any minute,” Derek said stalking to the door, he stopped in the doorway and without turning around said, “I'm sorry I hit you Thomas.” then he left.

“I’m not,” Thomas said to the empty room.

The rest of his day was spent repeatedly answering the same questions, first to Scott, then to Scott's mom who Scott had called to take a look at Thomas, then to the Sheriff. He’d manage to convince Scott he was fine and had it coming, though the other boy still looked pissed and continually threatened Derek under his breath. He even managed to call the Sheriff down, saying he was going to talk to him. Which Thomas admittedly didn't think was going to work seeing as how Scott is literally a twig compared to Derek.

Surprisingly the hardest person to pacify was Scott's mom. She took one look at Thomas and dialed Derek's number on her phone, then continued to chew him out until she was done cleaning Thomas up. It took hours for him to convince everyone he was okay. Nobody mentioned the mess in the bathroom and Thomas was beginning to wonder if he'd made the whole thing up. He was too afraid to look.

Thomas paced his bedroom thinking about all the strange things he'd noticed or heard since he showed up here, which with his limited memory was quite a lot of strange things.

“Son?” Thomas was pulled out of his head at the sheriff's voice. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh yeah I'm fine, I'm sorry about this.” Thomas motioned to his face where he knew one of his eyes was probably black by now.

“You have nothing to apologize for, I have half a mind to arrest Derek for assault but I also have a feeling Scott took care of it.” Thomas snorted, he couldn't help it.

“What, Scott? Is Scott going to take care of Derek? I mean no offense I’m sure he’s a great guy but I can now say from personal experience that Derek could take Scott in a heartbeat.”

“I wouldn't be so quick to judge, son. Goodnight, try to get some sleep.”

“I will,” Thomas promised.

“Hey if you need me, don't hesitate. I’ll be here.” Thomas nodded and smiled at him. “Goodnight son.”

  
A few hours later Thomas was staring at his bedroom mirror, hanging above his dresser. He wasn't looking at himself in the mirror, instead, he was focused on the words he’d written in black marker. The things he’d heard, and seen in the past week that didn’t add up. The first was ‘supernatural’. A word Derek had said during their first conversation. That one was at the top of the mirror because isn’t that what they were all hiding. Spread out under that he wrote, _‘followed your scent for days’ ‘maybe if he met the pack’ Eyes that change from brown to bright blue,_ and _taking people's pain._ He stared at them, fingering the marker still in his hand. There was something else that felt important. Something that seemed ridiculous when he thought it. Something that he's been dreaming about for as long as he could remember, he took a step closer and wrote in big letters. **_Wolf._** and just like that, every piece on the table seemed to fall into place. And just like that everything he knew crumbled beneath him.


	5. Clocks Ticking.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You could have stopped this Tommy, you said you'd find me.  
> “Someone's going to die.”  
> by the time Newt disappeared, it was too late   
> Clocks ticking Thomas.  
> come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, every beautiful person who stopped by to read chapter five! I hope you all enjoy it.. just don't kill me when you get to the end. and as per usual leave a comment with any questions or opinions or concerns etc. etc. have fun and see ya in chapter six!

Thomas was tied to a chair in the middle of a spotlight, he couldn't see anything outside of the circle of light around him but he could hear, snarling and growling he could hear the snapping of the mouths of wolves but nothing came close enough for him to see. 

 

   “I think you’ve forgotten me, Thomas.” Teresa came into view holding a gun.

 

   “I think he’s bloody forgotten all of us.” Thomas’s heart dropped as Newts voice floated to him from somewhere behind.  He couldn't talk. 

 

   “I think we should remind him what happens when he doesn't keep his promises.” Teresa's voice was sweet and sticky and it dripped over him like wax. 

 

   “Bloody hell Teressa, just leave him to the wolves and let's be on with it.” Newt was walking in front of Thomas now, stopping just behind Teresa. 

 

   “But that would be too easy Newtie.” Thomases stomach churned.

 

   “You do love your drama.” Newt sighed and moved to stand in between Thomas and Teresa. “You could have stopped this Tommy, you said you'd find me.” the gun went off without warning and as Newts body fell just as Thomas found his voice. 

 

   “Now now, this is no one's fault but your own,” Theresa said. “Go on boys.” Thomas was confused at who she was talking to until a group of wolves pounced on Newt. 

 

   “No!” Thomas screamed. 

 

   “You could have stopped this.” 

  
  
  


   Thomas was still screaming, even when he was sure he was in his room, even after the lights flipped on and his dad was holding him. Even when he knew it was just a dream. Because her voice was clear as day in his head.  

 

_   You could have stopped what's about to happen. _ The words weren't from his dream. They were from her and they were all he could hear and so he screamed to drown them out. 

 

_    Things are going to get really bad for you Thomas. Clocks ticking.  _

 

“Son! Its okay, you’re okay! You’re safe! I got you.” The Sheriff had to shout over Thomas's screams before the words finally sank in. he felt the arms around him just like the last time. He heard the comforting words but they had no effect. He pulled away from the sheriff and stood on shaking legs, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. 

 

“No, they're going to kill him. It wasn't a dream. Dad, he didn't get out!” The Sheriff blinked.

 

“Who? Son. tell me what's happening here.” 

 

“Newt. they're going to kill Newt!” Thomas wrapped his arms around himself to try to stop his shaking. 

 

“Who is going to kill him?”

 

“Teressa! WICKED! Does it matter? He's going to die and it'll be my fault again!” Thomas wasn't aware he was screaming until his voice cracked. 

 

“Son. calm down. You just woke up from a nightmare. You’re okay and we're going to find your friends.” 

 

“No, you don't understand I can hear her in my head. I can talk to her in my head!” Thomas stood there, in the middle of the room trying to beg the sheriff to trust him, to know he's telling the truth. “Dad, please, you have to believe me.” Thomas sobbed. Only vaguely recognizing that he'd called the sheriff dad. 

 

“Why don't you sit down son.” the sheriff said shifting to give Thomas as much room as possible. Thomas did and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Okay, do you wanna tell me how it's possible to talk to some girl in your head?” 

 

“They put a chip in my brain.” Thomas whimpered, staring at the carpet of his floor, at where the blood had stained it from earlier. 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

“It was to scan our brain patterns and keep us from remembering. But mine was different, mine and Teresa's. We can communicate. I hate it. I hate her. But she told me after I woke up she told me I could have stopped it. She said things are going to get really bad.” the more he talked the more he could feel himself falling apart. 

 

“Okay. okay, we'll find him. We'll find him before they can do anything to him and hey, Thomas, look at me.” Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up to meet his eyes. “This WICKED is going to pay for everything they've done to you, and every other kid they've taken.” a strangled sob broke in Thomases throat. 

 

“You believe me?” He asked incredulously. 

 

“Of course I do. You’re my son no matter what they did to your head, you're still my son.” and for the first time since he opened his eyes in the hospital bed, Thomas really believed it. He wiped at his face, brushing the last few tears away. “You think you can get some more sleep?” Thomas shook his head. “Eh, I don't blame you, wanna get dressed and go to the station with me? Help me follow a few leads I dug up late last night.” Thomas sat up straighter.

 

“Leads on my friends?” 

 

“Yeah.” Thomas nodded excited and started to pull clothes out. 

 

“Oh, and son?” 

 

“Yeah, dad?” Thomas said it on purpose that time. 

 

“You have a board for that” his dad pointed at the mirror. “I’ll get it back out for you, please don't write on your mirror.” 

 

“Oh. sorry. I think I'm about to figure something out.” 

 

“Yeah I think you are too.” the Sheriff said leaving the room. Thomas looked the words over again and nodded to himself. He’d get his answers today. Maybe more than he thought. 

  
  


Less than an hour later they parked the car in front of the Police-office with coffees in one hand and a bag of donuts in the other. Everybody stared at Thomas as he followed his dad through the building. Not just glancing up at him and continuing with their work, no, they were straight up gawking at him, not dropping their eyes till they finally reached the Sheriff's office, and even then the sheriff had to call an authoritative ‘get back to work’ before people even pretended not to look. 

 

“Sorry about them, you used to spend a lot of time up here.” the sheriff said dropping his bag of donuts on the desk. “Alright, start with these. I’m going to check up on a few other minor issues and grab the newest files, I'll be back in a minute.” the Sheriff stopped just outside the door having to lean back so that Thomas could see him. “And Thomas?”

 

“Yeah?” Thomas said, not really looking up from the stack of files his dad just handed him. 

 

“Don't touch anything other than those, okay?” he said in a way that he probably knew wouldn't work. But Thomas just nodded and flipped open the first folder.  

 

As soon as the Sheriff was out of sight Thomas was in the chair on the other side of the desk shaking the mouse to get the computer to boot up. He didn't think this plan through to well though and he realized this as soon as the password box appeared on the screen. Thomas stared at the blinking cursor that only served as a reminder of how little he knew about the man that was supposed to be his father. Not supposed to be, the man who was his father, Thomas told himself. 

 

“It's Claudia.” the voice made him jump, and upon seeing his dad in the doorway guilt crept up his neck. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Thomas said quickly jumping out of the chair.

 

“Don't be. You haven't changed that much. The passwords Claudia, go ahead.” the sheriff motioned to the computer. Thomas hesitated, searching his face for any sign of this being a trap before sitting back down and typing the name into the box. 

 

As soon as he hit enter he was greeted with a picture of himself. At least it looked like him but he had no memory of this specific event. He was wearing a jersey of some sort and grinning like an idiot. Before he could voice the questions floating in his head the picture faded and another popped up. In this one, he recognized the sheriff, but he looked much, much younger, and a beautiful woman beside him. Between the two was a boy no older than 7. A lump rose in Thomas's throat. 

 

“Mom?” he whispered touching the screen before the image changed again. 

 

“She was, yeah.” The Sheriff moved to stand beside him. 

 

“What happened?” Thomas asked, not sure if he really wanted to know the answer. 

 

“She got sick.” the sheriff laid a hand on Thomas's shoulder and cleared his throat. “She got really sick.” Thomas nodded. And brushed a stray tear that had just managed to escape off his face. He moved the mouse and clicked on the file titled ‘WICKED’ 

 

“Is there anything you can tell me about your friends, the ones were looking for that might set them apart from the dozens of kids that have been found?”

 

“Dozens?” Thomas asked scanning the list of names that popped up. “There weren't dozens where they kept us,” Thomas said. 

 

“No, I know. They, the FBI, have found other compounds, they’re located all over the desert.”

 

“I didn't know there were that many,” Thomas whispered. 

 

“Your friends, Minho and Newt right?” 

 

“And Frypan,” Thomas added. 

 

“Right, Frypan. What can you tell me about them, I can narrow this search down a little bit more.”

 

“Well. Newts British. Minho's Asian I think.” 

 

“Alright then, I need you to look through these.” he handed Thomas another stack of files. Thomas took them and moved out of the sheriff's seat. He found a spot on the floor and started looking through the folders. 

  
  


They went through files all day and the later it got the more certain Thomas was that they never made it out. Out of all the people who had been rescued, none of them, not even one came close to describing Newt of Minho. 

 

“We should probably call it a day kiddo.” Thomas looked up at his dad and after a minutes hesitation nodded. “We'll try again in the morning.” Thomas nodded again.

  
  


The ride home was mostly quiet. Not in an uncomfortable way, just that they were both so deep in thought that neither of them felt the need to speak until they pulled into the driveway.  

 

“I didn't realize how late it was.” the Sheriff sighed as they walked up to the porch. Thomas just hmmed in response. “I think I'm going to get to bed, gotta get up early and all. You hungry?  I can heat up leftovers if you want.”

 

“No, Nah. I'm good.” Thomas said, “you go to bed, I think I'm going to try to get some sleep too.” Thomas said absently. He watched his father disappear into his room before he himself made his way upstairs.

 

The floor creaked under his feet and he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over the entire house. The hallway to his room seemed to stretch father than usual and his limbs were heavy. He passed the bathroom and glanced at the shattered mirror and red stains on the wall and felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach before he kept moving. 

 

He turned into his room and froze. He could make out the outline of someone sitting on his bed and his heart stopped beating while he fumbled for the light switch. When the room was washed in light he could see the stranger was actually Lydia, a short strawberry blonde girl who he'd only seen once or twice since he came back to beacon hills. 

 

“Lydia?” he asked talking slow steps forward. There was a dazed look in her eyes that made him feel uneasy. “Hey, Lydia what is it?” he asked just as she looked up at him. 

 

“Someone's going to die.” her voice was hallowed and almost as soon as she finished speaking a gunshot went off, ringing in Thomas's ears. Thomas stood there for just two seconds before lurching forward and grabbing the aluminum baseball bat leaning against his dresser and running down the stairs. the front door was wide open, Thomas gripped the bat tighter in his hands holding it up ready to swing. he kept through the house as quiet as he could be until he reached his dad's open door. 

 

“Hi, Tommy.” Thomas froze with one foot in the sheriff's room. 

 

“Newt.” he breathed, dropping the bat. Thomas stared at the boy standing in front of him. The boy who was holding a gun in front of him. The boy holding a gun, and smiling at Thomas. “What did you,”

 

“Nothing he won't recover from, well maybe. Not sure really.” Newt took a few steps in Thomases direction, “I have a message for you, Tommy. A message from WICKED.” Thomases hands shook. 

 

Thomas couldn't force himself to move as Newt drew closer and closer until he could feel his breath on his skin. “They want you to stop looking,” Newt whispered closing the distance between them and pressing his lips against Thomas's. 

 

Thomas was completely overwhelmed with Newt and it took him too long to wrap his mind around what was happening. When he did the realization also hit that this wasn't Newt, not his Newt. he pushed the imposter away roughly and sirens could be heard in the distance, but getting louder. 

 

“Well, that's my cue. Hope to see you soon Tommy.” Thomas wanted to say he fought Newt when he tried to escape. He wanted to say he didn't just stand there in shock and watched him walk right past him and out the front door. He wished he could say he tried. But he didn't and by the time Newt disappeared it was too late to do anything about it.

 

Thomas looked back over the room and his eyes settled on the Sheriff, his dad, lying too still on the floor. He rushed to his side and nearly passed out seeing the puddle of blood growing around his dad. he didn't let himself think about it and stipped his hoodie off wadding up the material and pressing it into the wound. thomas watched wide-eyed as the blood quickly soaked through the bundle of material and flowed up through his fingers. 

 

Soon the room was bathed in flashing lights coming through the window and people were at his side, gently pushing him out of the way and replacing the now ruined hoodie with towels. had the towels always been red? thomas found himself wondering as he watched the men work from where he sat, leaned against the bed with his arms resting on his knees. there was blood everywhere. 

 

“What happened?” one of the men asked Thomas but he just sat there staring at the blood caked on his skin. 

 

“There was a gunshot, we heard it from upstairs and by the time we came down there was no one here.”  he was vaguely aware of Lydia's voice. 

 

Thomas watched everything happening around him in slow motion. His dad was wheeled out on a stretcher, Lydia answering questions. At some point, Scott and his mom showed up. He could hear voices building on top of each other but he couldn't make any of them out. It was all muffled white noise. He wasn't sure how long he stood there. 

 

“Thomas.” everything came into sharp focus as Thomas looked up from his bloodstained hands. 

 

“It's WICKED,” Thomas said, and he hoped that Scott would believe him. 

 

“What happened?” 

 

“WICKED, I knew they still had him, I knew, the chip, they can. They made him do it. He didn't do this.” Thomas was babbling. 

 

“Thomas, relax. We will get this figured out but for now, we need to go to the hospital okay?” something in the way Scott was talking to him, the kind of gentleness he used struck a chord. 

 

“Is my dad going to be okay?” Thomas's voice cracked. 

 

“He's going to be fine but we should still go,” Scott said, his voice soft. Thomas didn't notice when the house had cleared out but Scott was the only one left and Thomas had to practically lean on him as they made their way out of the house and into the blue jeep in the driveway. 

 

   Scott drove them to the hospital and Thomas stared out the window. The trees and buildings were blurred and Thomas couldn't tell if it was from how fast Scott was driving or the unshed tears. He bit his lip and fidgeted in his seat only half listening to Scott's reassurances. 

 

_    Clocks ticking Thomas. _ He wasn't surprised to hear her voice in his head this time. 

 

_ What did you do to Newt? _ Thomas screamed in his head, feeling when it made Teressa wince. 

 

_  We did what we had to, what you made us do _ . Thomas bit his lip harder, stifling a whimper. He knew this would happen, well not this exactly, but he knew nothing good came to the people he cared about.  _ This didn't have to happen Thomas. But it did. And it will again. unless... _ He knew what she wanted. And he knew he'd do it. 

 

_    Unless what? _ he thought at her. Wishing he could cut her wither his words. 

 

_    Unless you come home. Clocks ticking. _


	6. wake up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are you hiding from me
> 
> What are you
> 
> You’re lying
> 
> Tommy”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh My God i am SO sorry this took a stupid amount of time in between updates.   
> but if you forgive me I hope the chapter will be worth it. let me tell you it was a freaking bitch to write.   
> I REALLY AM SO SORRY.   
> I really really hope you enjoy this chapter and if you do please let me know! it helps me stay motivated.   
> and if you didn't like it well let me know what I could have done better!

_Unless you come home, Thomas. Clocks Ticking._ Her words echoed in his head. They always echoed in his head.  _come home, Things are going to get bad._ Warnings and threats and broken trust.

 _Thomas, come home._ Thomas mentally shoved Teresa out of his head, sick of hearing her voice, sick of the words she used as a warning, a plea, a threat. Scott pulled into the Hospital parking lot and Thomas was opening the door before the Jeep had even come to a full stop. He could hear Scott slamming both his own door and the one that Thomas had left standing open, but Thomas was already pulling open the Hospital doors.

Cool air rushed to meet him as he stepped inside and with it memories of waking up terrified and confused. Memories of running through the halls, pointing a gun at his dad, and Images of handcuffs and ropes. He pushed the thoughts away just as Scott caught up to him and grabbed his wrist, pulling him through the crowded hallways and upstairs until the stopped at a door labeled Stilinski.

Thomas fell into a chair across from the door and stared at his still bloodstained hands. Thomas had no idea how long he’d sat there, long enough for them to wheel his dad away for surgery and him to come back again. Long enough for people to have come and gone, checking on Thomas and talking in hushed whispers to Scott. All Thomas could do was sit there and listen to the voices floating around him. He only caught fractured sentences and words that didn't make sense. Words like chimera and the beast. Thomas watched as people who he supposed were Scott’s friends came in and spoke to him, like Thomas was the afterthought, it looked they were reporting to their leader. With each new person who came through Scott grew more and more worried, pacing in front of Thomas, driving him crazy.

“Scott There's been another attack!” A kid ran up to him and Thomas recognized him as Liam. Scott threw a quick glance at Thomas before grabbing Liam's arm and dragging him away until Thomas couldn't make out the words they were saying. Thomas felt himself growing angrier.

“She's dying Scott just give her the bite!” Liam was shouting at Scott now. The bite? Thomas dropped his eyes as Scott started looking around and shushing the kid. Liam turned and stormed off without saying a word to Thomas. Scott’s mood had soured considerably and his pacing had gone up a notch. With each pass he made Thomas grew more and more frustrated until he stopped thinking and flew at Scott, grabbing him by his shirt and slamming him into the wall.   
  
“What are you hiding from me?” Thomas demanded, his entire body was shaking although he wasn't sure if it was because of the fear or the anger.

“Thomas?” Scott was entirely too calm so Thomas pulled Scott away from the wall just to slam him back into it. Scott closed his eyes at the impact then said nothing.

“What are you?” Scott's eyes opened wide and searching, the question even caught Thomas by surprise. Silence stretched in between them both of them studying the others face. Scott opened his mouth to say something but Thomas cut him off before he could make a sound. “Don't lie to me, Scott.” Thomas watched the emotions flashing in Scotts eyes so closely that the shift from chocolate brown to blood red should have freaked him out. It should have scared him but Thomas didn't move.

“Thomas?” Scott asked when he finally did release his hold on Scott's shirt and take a step back. Scott's white shirt was wrinkled and stained where Thomas had been holding it. “You okay?” Scott asked, ducking his head a little.

“What are you?” Thomas asked again, and this time around the question made a little more sense. But it felt like he should know. He felt like he'd always known because he remembers those red eyes, they were the same eyes that hunted every nightmare he remembers having. Thomas took another stumbled step back.

“I’m a werewolf,” Scott said slowly like he was questioning each word he said. Thomas wanted to laugh. He wanted to point out that this wasn't a fairytale or a bad teen movie. He wanted to scream that this was real life, and the only real monsters were people. But he remembered the grievers chasing them through the maze, and the cranks that tried to eat them. He could communicate with at least one person using his mind. Was it really too far a stretch that something like this was real? As much as his mind told him this was insane, he couldn't help but believe Scott.

“A werewolf, Yeah, you’re a werewolf, of course, you are. Because why wouldn't you be? Why wouldn’t werewolves be a thing? Really though? Werewolves?” Thomas was the one pacing now but he didn't miss Scotts bemused look and the soft chuckling he was failing to hide. “Great that’s, that's great you know it's not like I have a list this long,” Thomas threw his arms out as wide as he could, “of things that I have to contend with, why not add lycanthropy to the list. Why not? And while I'm dealing with this clusterfuck of shit you’re standing there laughing at me!” Scott shook his head and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s shoulders, pinning his arms to his side. Thomas stood rigid a moment before laying his head on the werewolf’s shoulder in an attempt to hug Scott back.

“Listen, man, your dad’s going to be fine, he's lived through much worse than a gunshot.” something told Thomas he didn't know what this ‘much worse’ was. “And now that you know about this we can help you, not only to find your friends but I think we can handle WICKED too. I can finally introduce you, properly introduce you, to the rest of the Pack. listen, Thomas, we can get your friends back and we can fix everything.”

“Thank you.” The words were muffled in Scott's shoulder and they stood there a little longer before Scott pulled away. Thomas cleared his throat and nodded. “Werewolves though?” he said in an awkward attempt to shift the mood to something a little lighter. Scott smiled and jumped into a hushed explanation of everything he could, about werewolves and his pack and the kind of things they had faced at the time Thomas was gone. Thomas tried to keep up but Scott jumped all over the place and Thomas was left with somehow even more questions then he had before.

“Boys? I'm sorry to interrupt” Melissa was leaning out of the door and Thomas physically felt the world come back to him. It was easy listening to Scott, it was a distraction. But now Thomas’s smile fell. “Thomas you can see him if you want, he's in and out of sleep but when he is awake he's asking for you.” Thomas's legs were stiff as he pushed himself out of his chair and walked the short distance to the door. He paused in the doorway and Melissa smiled at him. “I’ll give you a minute,” she said patting his shoulder. Thomas nodded and squared his shoulders, stepping into the room. The door fell closed behind him.

“Stiles?” The Sheriff croaked, and Thomas almost didn't mind the use of the name. He took a few shaky steps forward.

“I'm here dad.” He said just loud enough to be heard over the whirring of the machines.

“It's gonna be okay kiddo.” His dad's words were slurred and Thomas suddenly felt like he was 8 years old. “You’re gonna be fine.” Thomas could barely hear the words but his heart started to beat faster.

“Dad.” Thomas’s voice was thick. The Sheriff’s head lolled to the side. “Dad?” Thomas said a little louder. It felt like the room erupted around him. The machines were screaming and the door was swinging open. “No, don't leave me dad.” his words were drowned out by shouting voices.

“Thomas, Thomas hey, listen to me Thomas.” he tried to focus on Melissa, on her hand on his shoulder, on her voice that was so soft and sweet and motherly. He wanted to lean into her and let someone else take care of him for once but all he could see was his dad disappearing behind nurses and doctors. “Honey, listen to me.” She was pulling him out of the room, he was aware of his feet moving but he kept looking back. “Thomas, look at me.” he turned his head towards her but couldn't focus anywhere.

“Is he dying?” He choked. Melissa pulled him into a fierce hug and Thomas decided the McCalls were huggy people. He breathed her in, she smelled like the hospital and lavender Shampoo.

“Oh honey, he's not, we're going to take care of him okay, he's going to be fine.” she pulled away and placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. “Do you understand me? He's going to be fine.” all Thomas could do was nod and Melissa hugged him again. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked after a second. Thomas just nodded again and watched her disappear into his dad's room.

“What happened?” Scott asked as soon as his mom was gone. Thomas didn't answer, didn't even look in Scott's direction before taking off towards the nearest bathroom leaving Scott starring worriedly after him.

Thomas locked the bathroom door and leaned heavily against it, closing his eyes to shield from the brightness. He stood there and breathed for a long moment before his eyes opened again. The room stretched in front of him long and white. Everything was so bright, the walls, the floor, the ceiling, and even Thomases clothes. “No.” He whimpered, staring down at himself. He turned to leave but the door was gone, replaced with another bright white wall. “No, this isn't real. This is a dream, It's just a dream.” Thomas grabbed his head. “Come on, Wake up Thomas. You gotta wake up.” His heart beat faster and panic started to get the best of him. He lunged at where the door should have been, his fist connecting hard with the solid wall. Thomas stared at his hand before hitting the wall again. “Wake up Thomas!” He yelled, continuing to hit his hand against the wall, staining the horrible white with red. “Wake up.” he cried screwing his eyes closed and slamming his fist into the wall again, this time hearing the sound of broken glass.

Thomas opened his eyes and stared at his splintered reflection in front of him. The mirror was shattered and a few pieces fell into the sink, sounding like rain. Thomas took a shuddering breath and looked at his hand, which was a mess of glass shards, broken skin, and blood. The room seemed back to normal and Thomas picked the glass out of his hand, wincing before glaring at what was left of his reflection as he left the bathroom.

Chaos swirled around him in the form of shouting nurses and ringing phones. He stood outside the bathroom and starred in the direction of his father's room where Scott had stopped pacing, instead he was sitting hunched over in a chair. He watched a girl leaning over him, holding his hand. He recognized her but only barely. It was obvious she cared about him. That was good, what little Thomas knew about Scott was that even if he was a leader, an alpha, he needed someone to look after him. There were others, all surrounding Scott, and Thomas tried to imagine himself among them. He tried to imagine the life that he should have had, surrounded by family. Thomas shook the thoughts away and took a last look at Scott’s hunched shoulders, then turned and walked the opposite direction.

Thomas almost made it to the parking lot when he saw him. At first, he thought he was hallucinating again. He thought he was seeing things but there he was, a just a few yards in front of him, Newt, grinning at him, and Thomas tried to remember the last time he'd see Newt look like that.

“Stiles!” Thomas looked behind him to see malia approaching when he looked back to the spot Newt was, he wasn't there anymore, no one was there. He fought to hide his disappointment and face Malia, who still hadn’t quite caught on to the fact that Stiles was gone. “Stiles I came as soon as I could, I heard about your Dad, is he okay? Are you okay? What happened to your hand?” Thomas turned the back of his hand away from her.

“Uh, I'm fine, I just needed some air.” it wasn't completely a lie, Scott told him something about werewolves being able to tell when you were lying. She looked at him for a long time, he felt like she was searching him and she probably was.

“You’re lying,” she said finally and Thomas bit his lip.

“Yeah, of course, I'm shucking lying! My dad just flatlined in front of me, I'm not fine. I'm not going to be fine I just want to be left alone.” Her eyes widened and she took a step back.

  
“Not stiles. My name is Thomas, just, I don't know what happened. Scotts up there, he needs you.” Thomas turned and walked away. He felt guilty for blowing up at her but it worked, she didn't follow him and he walked faster, intent on getting away before anyone else ran into him.

“Tommy” Thomas was wrapped up in his thoughts when he heard it. Thomas turned down a strangely abandoned hallway, following the voice. Part of him was full of hope like maybe it was really Newt this time. But he knew better. He turned another corner and stopped short, because there he was, and this time he was within reach.

“Newt?” His voice came out strangled.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, I must say, you have a lot of friends here, makes us feel like you've forgotten us.” Thomas didn't know who ‘us’ meant, but whatever part of him that was hoping for his Newt shattered. This Newt had a sinister hollow voice. The kind of voice you’d expect to hear from a carcass. Thomas knew why they were using Newt, why they were controlling him. WICKED was made up of wicked people. People who enjoyed using what others loved against them. WICKED had been watching Thomas for years, literally for longer than he remembered, but if there was anything he knew for certain. It was the way he felt about Newt, and that was sure to show.

“I'm ready to go with you.” Thomas blurted, surprising himself with the words. He told himself that this was the plan all along. That he knew as soon as he saw Newt like this he would be going back. Even if going back meant another white room. Even if going back meant being a human juice box, he'd do it. He'd do anything for Newt. However, that didn't make the idea any less terrifying.

“Really? So easily?” Thomas didn't look away from Newts glassy stare and nodded. “Why?”

“I don't want any more innocent people hurt.” Newt laughed a real throw your head back kind of laugh.

“Innocent? Innocent?! Do you think these shank are innocent Tommy? Do you even know what these people are?” Newt screwed up his face on the word ‘people’ and his laughter turned into anger, and he started walking slowly towards Thomas. “Nobody is innocent Tommy. You better learn that real quick.” Newt was right in front of him now and before Thomas could blink he had his wrist in his hand and he was closing something metal around it. Thomas looked down to see the cuff hanging from his right wrist and he held his breath while Newt cuffed his other wrist. He tried to keep his breathing under control. “Aww, afraid of some little handcuffs Tommy? What happened to the fearless leader? The boy who attacked Janson even if it meant they got to beat the hell out of me? What happened to the boy who listened to me being tortured? Huh? What happened to that boy?” Newts words painted pictures Thomas didn't want to look at. “Oh well, you'll still serve a purpose, let's go, Tommy.” Newt turned to lead Thomas away, pulling on the chain between his hands when a growl ripped through the hallway.

Thomas felt more hands on him as he was pulled roughly, ripping him out of Newts grasp and practically throwing him against the wall behind the owner of the hands. Thomas watched Derek crouch between him and Newt. he looked back and Thomas could see the features of his face distorted, twisted, into something more animal than human. Newt for his part looked petrified and wide-eyed, backing away as fast as he could. Derek looked away from Thomas and jumped.

“Don't hurt him!” Thomas yelled. Coming back to himself and back to reality. Derek's growls grew louder, landing right in front of Newt and slamming his head into the wall despite Thomas’s shouts. Newt fell crumpled to the floor and Derek stood over him breathing heavily. Thomas watched him lift his hand as if to strike with long claws. Thomas forced himself to move between Newt and the werewolf just before Derek could strike. Thomas braced himself for the sting of Derek's claws but nothing came.

“Stil- Thomas what the hell?” Thomas opened his eyes to a very human, very pissed off looking Derek.

“You can't hurt him.”

“Why not? he was talking you away. And you? You were just going to let him?”

“Yes, I was going to let him. I didn't want anyone else getting hurt because of me!”

“You don't get to run off and self-sacrifice. Not again.” Derek's voice came out thick.

“Why the hell not, huh? It's not like in the same person you all lost. I can't be that person. I've tried and I don't know how, so maybe instead of being a huge disappointment to everyone I could at least try to save them!” Derek charged forward, grabbing Thomas by his arms and slamming him against the wall. Thomas felt like this wasn’t anything new to them.

“You don't get to, I cant keep them all together through losing you again.” Thomas was stunned. Mostly he thought from the slam into the wall.

“I had to watch the pack splinter and fall apart. Do you know what that's like? Of course, you don't how could you?” Derek scoffed. “They are all trying so hard to hide how bad they've been hurting from you but I had to watch it. Your dad couldn't take care of himself. He barely ate and poured every ounce of his time into finding you, until it made him physically sick. He was put in the hospital 6 times while you were missing with stomach ulcers, Stiles. Six. Or, I’m sorry, Thomas.” Thomas blinked at the information and felt guilt rise up to the back of his neck. “Malia lost not only her anchor but her boyfriend and I bet you don't remember how you met malia either. She’d only been human again for a year, and the only person she had during that time was you.”

“I thought,” Thomas started. Thinking about the kiss in the woods and the way Derek was always there demanding Thomas remember something, demanding Thomas to remember him.

“Lydia just got out of Eichen house, she was put there because of how often she walked around town pushing herself to find you, screaming constantly. And Scott? God, Scott? Our fearless leader? He's having to repeat his senior year! He stopped going to school completely and fought with Allison so much they've broken up several times. None of them are going to college, or have jobs. None of them could move on without you! And you're going to what? Leave all over again?” Thomas stood there shocked and overwhelmed with the new information. “It's like losing a limb when a member of your pack is gone.” Suddenly Derek wasn't looking at him anymore. In fact, he was looking anywhere but him.

“Do you think this is easy? Leaving is easy? I don't want to go. Especially knowing exactly what I'll be going into. It's hell and torture and they’re just going to keep hurting people until they get me back.”

“Then we’ll fight them, we've handled worse.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Thomas muttered under his breath as Derek released him finally. Thomas sank down next to Newt brushing his hair out of his face with both of his hands still locked together. “Could you help me with this?” Thomas asked, holding his hands up, not realizing how hard he was pulling against them while Derek was talking. Derek didn't say anything but he gently grabbed the metal around Thomas’s wrist and bent it until he could slip his hand out then he did it again on the other hand. “Thanks,” Thomas said, rubbing the skin on his wrists and breathing normally again. Derek held the cuffs for a moment too long before throwing them to the floor.st

“Who is this?” Derek asked Thomas ignored him at first, sliding his arms under Newts legs and neck and picked him up, cradling him against his chest. “I can..” Derek started, holding out his arms.

“It's Newt,” Thomas said, walking past Derek, who followed at a distance. Newt was thinner than ever. Thomas could feel Newts ribs against his chest. And the boy was too easy to carry. They reached a set of elevators and Derek pushed the button. Thomas was relieved when it was empty and he stepped inside.   
Derek was growling, standing as far away from Newt and Thomas as he could for the entire elevator ride. Thomas ignored him and tried to see if there was anything physically wrong with Newt, scanning him as best he could. All seemed okay, except for the fact that it looked like he hadn't eaten in over a week until he looked down at Newts arm. Thomas could see the ends of Black Veins peeking through the sleeve of Newt’s shirt. Thomas bit his lip so hard it bled, to keep from crying out in panic.

A second later the elevators opened to Scott and Melissa and Thomas could have cried from relief.

“What is this what happened?” Melissa asked, immediately jumping into Doctor mode, ushering them into an empty room.

“Newt,” Thomas said, doing his best to keep the emotion out of his voice, but his heart was beating hard and fast. He laid Newt out on the bed and moved out of melissa's way. “He's just knocked out,” he said softly. “I’ll... I’ll be right back.” Thomas ducked out of the room and leaned against the wall right outside the door. He wanted to believe that this changed something. That he got newt back so he didn't have to worry anymore, and he could believe Derek and Scott and that together they could beat WICKED. He wanted to believe he could get some resemblance of a life back but he knew better by now. He knew they weren't going to stop, and people were going to die. Thomas took a deep breath and gathered every ounce of strength he had left and pushed it all into thinking _Teresa_ as loud as he could.

 _Thomas._ Her voice filled his head almost immediately.

 _Why didn't the cure work?_ That wasn't what Thomas was going to say but the question was burning him, demanding it be asked.

 _It did. Newt didn't get the cure. Are you coming home?_ Thomas slid down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees.

_What do you mean Newt didn't get the cure? We had a deal._

_And you broke it by leaving. Your times up._ Teresa disappeared from his mind almost immediately.

“Hey man, you okay?” Thomas looked up at Scott and everything Derek had told him came back to him in a guilty rush. Scott held out his hand and Thomas took it, letting himself be pulled up.

“No” Thomas sighed, he opened his mouth to keep talking but a scream pierced through the entire hospital. Thomas covered his ears with his hands but they did nothing against the volume. It finally cut off, sending the entire hospital into a ghostly quiet only to be interrupted by a howl so full of pain Thoms could feel it. 

_thats one. how many more will you let die for you tom?_


	7. Static

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whats your Name?
> 
> What are you?
> 
> What do you know about werewolves Thomas?
> 
> Oh, sweetie you don't wanna know what I can do to you.
> 
> Funny, you're funny. Good thing I don't need you to last much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Seven! kinda took a turn or two I didn't expect at first. BUT it's kay we got this right? anyways I worked through it and that's good news for you cause now I know how part two is going to end! so please let me know what you think good or bad! I love every one of you that takes time to read so THANK YOU ALL!!

 

Thomas leaned against the wall of the small hospital room, watching Newt sleep. Melissa was in the only chair scratching notes onto her clipboard, Derek was right outside the door, standing guard with two other werewolves whose names Thomas couldn't quite remember. Scott and Lydia had gone to investigate the howl that shook the entire hospital, and Malia hadn't made another appearance since Thomas had yelled at her. 

 

“What’s the discoloration of his veins from?” Melissa asked, pulling Thomas from his thoughts. He sighed, feeling more tired than he ever remembered feeling before. 

 

“It's the Flare, a virus that broke out after the sun flares were supposed to have burned the earth” 

 

“I've never seen this before, and that's saying something. I mean, i see a lot of things, a lot of different DNA. I've seen viruses on a supernatural level and I’ve never come across anything like this.” Thomas pushed off the wall and walked the few feet between him and Newt. 

 

“Its what WICKED was using us for, to find a cure for the flare. it’s something about brian patterns, we were lab rats.” Thomas stared at Newt who looked almost peaceful. “Not all of us were immune, Newt isn't immune, they infected him on purpose and forced me to watch it change him. Every day i watched him get worse until I just couldn't anymore. When they found us, the uniform i was wearing? That was theirs, i was working for them, doing terrible things to people that didn't deserve it all because i couldn't watch my best friend die like this.” Thomas’s words caught in his throat and he shook his head, trying to clear it. “Sorry, I uh, i don't know why i said that.” he admitted glancing sheepishly back at Melissa. 

 

“You don't need to be sorry. for any of it, Thomas. You did what you've always done.’ Thomas looked at her with a confused expression. She set her clipboard aside and placed a hand on his knee. “You've always done whatever it takes to keep the people you love safe, with almost no thought to how it would affect you in the long run. That’s who you are, and you will never ever have to apologize for that, not to me, and not to anyone else.” Thomas only nodded and Melissa smiled at him, “Now, is there anything else you can tell me about the virus?” Thomas cleared his throat. 

 

“Yeah, it's not just going to make him sick and it's not just going to kill him. It's going to change him. It's going to turn him crazy and all he’ll want to do is kill, and eat,” Thomas was looking at Newt again, at the golden hair that fell just over his eyes, and his hands that were half covered in the inky veins. Thomas gently held one of Newts hands in his. “But I can save him, or at least buy him some more time, I know the cure, well I am the cure.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean you are the cure?” Melissa asked. 

 

“My blood is part of the cure, I'm completely immune. But WICKED might still be in control of him.” Thomas watched the rise and fall of Newts chest. “They would hurt him, he’d probably escape and go back to them.” Thomas blinked back tears ad looked up at Milissa, “I can’t, I can’t lose him,” Thomas’s words came out in gasps as he desperately tried to suck in air. 

 

“Hey, hey, breathe, Thomas, breathe.” Melissa leaned forward and placed her hands on his, “you are not going to lose anyone, okay? So why don’t you teach me how to make that cure and when Scott comes back we can make a plan okay? We’re going to save your friends Thomas, all of your friends, and we’re going to bring WICKED down for everything they’ve done to you okay?” Thomas nodded because that’s all he could do.

 

“Tommy” it wasn’t the sinister voice of WICKED that rasped through the room and seemed to bounce of the walls, but it wasn’t the reassuring and calming voice that Thomas was used to either. The word came out in a growl. Thomas jumped backwards, almost falling off the edge of the bed. “Tommy.” It took Thomas a minute to realize Newt was reaching for him, he wasn’t sure if it was to hold him or to try to kill him but Thomas grabbed Newts hand regardless. 

 

“I’m here Newt, I’m right here,” Thomas whispered, using his free hand to lightly comb through Newts hair again. 

 

“Tommy.” Newts eyes flew open and Thomas’s breath caught in his chest, the hints of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Newts eyes were wide and they rolled in his head. Thomas experimentally squeezed the hand he was still holding, half expecting Newt to pull away but instead, he was sitting up. 

 

“Easy Newt, you need to stay down,” Thomas pushed gently on Newts shoulder, pushing him down onto the bed but Newt was fumbling with his other arm, searching for something in the blankets and his clothes until he pulled out a crumpled and folded piece of paper out of a pocket. Newt was shoving it in Thomas’s direction. 

 

“Take it, Take it!” He kept repeating, his voice wavering and tangling somewhere in his throat, the words almost sounded like growls. 

 

“Okay, okay, i got it.” Thomas took the piece of paper and shoved it deep into his pocket subconsciously deciding it could wait till later. Newts hand was ripped from his and Thomas could actually see the virus taking over. Thomas grabbed for Newts wrists, pinning them to either side of the boy. “Hey, Hey Newt stay with me man, we’re going to help you, we’re going to cure you okay Newt, it's going to be okay.” 

 

“No!” Newt snarled, his eyes glazing over and Thomas could see the veins that had crept up his Neck, The virus was spreading fast, too fast. Newt was thrashing, trying to pull his hands-free from Thomas’s hold and he was almost successful. Thomas straddled the boy, pinning him down much more effectively. 

 

“Melissa!” He yelled as loud as he could manage, which wasn't loud enough. Newt writhed beneath him, growling and glaring at Thomas. “it's just the virus, its just the virus, it's just the virus.” Thomas didn't know if he was speaking the words or thinking them in an endless loop, but regardless he held onto them like a lifeboat.  

 

The door swung open behind him and Melissa appeared to his right. “Hold him still.” She said and Thomas could see the syringe out of the corner of his eye. Thomas grunted and leaned forward a bit, shifting his weight and doing his best to keep the squirming boy still. He watched Melissa sink the Needle into Newts Neck and he could see the effects wash over Newts face. his eyes slid half closed, and his whole body relaxed. As soon as he stopped fighting Thomas moved off of him and across the room leaning against the wall. he barely noticed Derek Standing in the doorway looking between him, Newt and Melissa. He ignored both of their stares and stood there with his arms crossed tightly across his chest, like he was holding himself together, and maybe he was. 

 

“It shouldn't have happened that fast.” Thomas broke the silence that had fallen over the room.”The Flare is spreading, based on his condition a few hours ago when we brought him in he should have had at least a few days before he started losing control.” more even, Thomas thought to himself, the first time he lasted almost a week before falling apart, “either WICKED messed something up in his brain when they took control of him or,” Thomas stopped talking and closed his eyes. 

 

“Or what?” Derek asked, impatience seeping into his words. 

 

“Or, this is a new strand of the disease, something faster and stronger, and just worse.” 

 

“Can you cure it?” Melissa asked. Thomas opened his eyes and looked at her. 

 

Thomas sighed and dropped his arms from his chest, choosing instead and bury them in his pockets. “I don't know, but I'm going to try.” his hand closed around the paper Newt had shoved at him before he'd gone crazy. “did you get the handcuffs?” he asked, she looked at him with guarded eyes. 

 

“Well, no, they were broken, but i do have some rope from my car.” She was holding it up and Thomas felt like he was going to be sick. he couldn't tell if the rope she held was actually stained or if he was just remembering them that way, but he pushed all of it down and took it from her. staring at them in his hands. “We’ll be outside.” Melissa said after a moment and Thomas loved her for always seeming to know what he needed without him having to say a thing. 

 

The door closed with a quiet click and Thomas let out a shuddering breath he didn't remember holding. in one hand he held the rope and in the other he could feel the paper pressed into his palm where Newts hand had been just a few minutes before. he thumbed the paper in his pocket but didn't pull it out yet. he needed to get this done and whatever Melissa had given him wouldn't last long. the Flare burned through it. Thomas sat on the edge of the bed again and took a section of rope, it was already cut and Thomas tried not to think about why in the world sweet Melissa would need pre sectioned rope. 

 

Newts veins were an angry contrast to his pale skin, and Thomas could see the traces of where the last rope was wrapped around those wrists. Thomas looked at his own wrists, his marks were darker and stood out more than Newts. he took the rope and wrapped it around Newts wrist, lose enough not to cut off the circulation or hurt him unnecessarily but tight enough for him not to escape it. it took everything in Thomas to tie the other end of the rope to the side of the bed. his breath was coming more in gasps then actual breathing but he pushed through it, leaning over Newt to tie his other arm down. Thomas’s thumb brushed over the exposed skin there and he felt his heart sink impossibly further. There were scars here too, from the ropes. but thick lines decorated the skin, normally barley noticeable but with the ugly veins under the surface he could make them out easier. Thomas fumbled with the rope and hurriedly tied off the knot. 

 

_He_   _ tried to kill himself in the maze you know?   _ Thomas could feel the blood drain from him. he was unexplainably cold and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 

 

_ Who?  _ but there wasn't anyone else she could be talking about. 

 

_ He woke up early one morning so that nobody would try to stop him.  _ Thomas covered his ears with his hands though he knew it wouldn't make a difference. her voice was in his head. Bouncing around in his mind, unwelcome and unwanted and stained in his memory. 

 

_ He ran into the maze, as soon as the doors opened.  _ Thomas squeezed his eyes closed and bite down on his lip hard, breaking the skin. 

 

“Get out of my head.” he whimpered as he thought it, moving backward from Newt until he could feel the wall against his back.  He slides down it, still clutching his ears, trying to drown out the sound. 

 

_ He was terrified as he ran, and he ran far looking for the perfect place.  _

 

“Get out of my head!” Thomas shouted, burying his head in his knees. he didn't hear the door open he didn't know there was anybody else in the room with him until he felt hands on him, one on his shoulder and one on his shin. someone was talking to him but he couldn't hear them, he couldn't make out what they were saying, he could only hear her. 

 

_ He found the tallest wall he could, where the ivy reached the highest and started to climb.  _

 

“Stop!” He sobbed into his arms, thinking the word at Teresa. 

 

“Thomas look at me!” Thomas lifted his head just enough to make eye contact with Derek, who was kneeling in front of him. 

 

_ When he reached the top he was scared, he hesitated, but still, he jumped.  _

 

_ “ _ P lease make her stop,” Thomas begged Derek. 

 

“I don’t understand Thomas, what's happening? who are you talking about, tell me what to do!” his hands were on either side of Thomas’s face, holding his head there, keeping Thomas looking at him. 

 

_ He jumped, and when he hit the ground, he wasn't met with peace. instead, he only found more pain, and a limp that will never go away.  _

 

“Get her out of my head. make it stop.” Thomas couldn't look away from where Derek was holding him still. 

 

“How?” Derek asked, and Thomas vaguely thought that he'd never heard Derek sound so gentle, not even when he had kissed him. Thomas tried to block out the words and the pictures, tried to think but the only thing he could do was listen. 

 

_ And you were the reason for it all.  _ Thomas sagged in Derek’s hands, exhausted. Teresa had fallen silent, but the images she painted still played in his head like a movie. 

 

“Thomas?” Derek was talking, Thomas felt like he should answer but he was just too tired. His eyes flickered across the room and for the first time he realized they weren't alone, it wasn't just Thomas and Derek, Melissa was standing off to their right, covering her mouth with her hand, Lydia was Next to her and another girl with platinum blond hair that Thomas didn't quite recognize, was standing just in the doorway wearing all leather. he knew he should be embarrassed, curled up on the floor sobbing in front of so many strangers but he couldn't bring himself to care. Couldn't bring himself to pull himself up, he just wanted to sleep. he just wanted to lay here, right here on the floor, and rest. his eyes fluttered closed, he could hear Derek saying his name, he could hear the others asking either him or Derek questions but he couldn't make out any words.  Thomas was vaguely aware of being picked up and moved onto a bed before he passed completely out. 

  
  
  


“Would you be careful? If he wakes up we’re screwed.” 

 

“What's he gonna do?” 

 

“I don't know, kill us? just be fucking careful.” 

 

The voices weren't familiar and didn’t make sense. Thomas was almost positive he was dreaming again. He didn't bother opening his eyes or sitting up, his body felt heavy with the need to sleep so he gave into it and the strange voices faded into silence again. 

  
  


“Are you sure you got the right boy? this one doesn't seem very... scary.” the voice belonged to a female. 

 

“The Hale boy was guarding him.” someone else answered. Thomas stirred slightly. 

 

“Well regardless i think our guest is waking up. Get him on the fence.” Thomas felt hands on him, lifting him up. He tried to fight back, to struggle against the hands holding him back. Something cold clamped onto his wrist and Thomas's eyes snapped open. 

 

“Oh Hello there kiddo. I see you finally decided to join us. My name is Tamora Monroe, you'll call me Ms. Monroe.” the woman in front of him almost managed to look sweet, and the people holding him up, and restraining him to the wall looked younger than him. She stared at him intently for a minute as the last restraint was clamped onto Thomas’s ankle. 

 

“You got the wrong boy, this isn't McCall.” the boys had stepped away from Thomas and exchanged worried looks with each other. 

 

“We didn't,” one of them, the shorter one started. 

 

“How is it possible for you to be such an idiot? you went to school with McCall for how many years? He was on the Lacrosse team, how is it you don't know what he looks like. News flash, he doesn't look like that.” Thomas's head reeled. “Is he even a werewolf?” 

 

“Why would he be guarded by Hale if he wasn't?” the other, taller boy said quickly. That seemed to be enough for Monroe because she was looking at him again with was more interest than Thomas was comfortable with. 

 

“What's your name?” she asked him. 

 

“Thomas.” he said slowly, taking in the room in front of him. It was dark and it took his eyes a long time to finally adjust to it. And even then he couldn't make out anything about where he was. 

 

“Last name?’ She asked, holding her hand out to one of the boys or handed her a clipboard.  Thomas only just realized he didn't know his last name. He wasn't using Stilinski. Not when he was almost certain this woman was going to kill him. 

 

“Paige, Thomas Paige,” he said quickly. She glanced up at him then back down to her clipboard, pursing her lips. 

 

“I don't recognize you, how do you know Scott McCall?” Thomas was certain everyone could hear his heart slamming into his chest. 

 

“I don't.” Monroe hummed and narrowed her eyes at him. 

 

“How do you know Derek Hale?” a calm washed over Thomas for a moment. 

 

“Well I don't really know him either, I know his cousin, Miguel.” Thomas had no idea where that came from. Monroe chuckled darkly. 

 

“Turn it on.” Thomas didn't have time to be afraid of what she meant. Within an instant, it felt like his entire body was on fire and he was screaming. 

 

Thomas remembered the night before Newt entered the maze. They were the only ones awake and they were curled around each other in Thomas’s bed. Newt had asked him what it would be like to forget. Thomas didn't have an answer for him. They were holding hands.

 

The pain stopped as soon as it had started. Monroe was staring at him curiously. 

 

“He’s not a werewolf.” She said, Thomas couldn't lift his head to look at her. His vision was blurred and it was all he could do not to pass out. “But if you’re not a werewolf then what are you, a human shouldn't have survived that.” Thomas wanted to say something. Maybe snap at her or crack a joke, something to let her know she couldn't break him. The closest he could do was smile at her.  “What are you?” She asked 

 

“You mean besides adorable?” It was difficult to force the words out. 

 

“Do it again,”   Monroe demanded clearly not amused.  Thomas’s body convulsed with the shock waves that ran through his body. 

 

He remembered watching Newt in the maze, he watched him everyday, he was meant to be watching everyone, checking in on them all, but really 3 other people were doing just that. Subject A5, the glue. Could be seen at the top corner of his screen. He remembered watching the people he called family die one after another.

 

“What do you know about werewolves Thomas?” She paced in front of him. 

 

“They make for good horror movies.” Monroe chuckled humorlessly and Thomas convulsed again.

 

The shock stopped and he glared at Monroe. “That all you got?” he asked hoarsely. 

 

“Oh, sweetie you don't wanna know what I can do to you.” She nodded to someone  and Thomas tensed, trying to prepare himself for what was to come.

 

“Maybe we should,” one of the boys from earlier said. 

 

“Maybe we should what?” Monroe snapped turning on the boy who had spoke up. 

 

“I just mean, he's not a werewolf, were going to kill him.” Monroe took a step back. 

 

“Are you going weak on me?” She asked darkly. All the boy could do was turn the dial. Thomas screamed. And without him meaning to he screamed her name in his head. He reached out to the only person that could reach him here and he hated himself for it. 

 

_ Have you decided to come home yet Thomas?  _ He wanted to  tell her it wasn't the time for that, he almost begged her to help him but then he remembered that everything that had happened to them was her fault and yet another round of shock waves had him screaming, but her voice sounded different, muffled, like she was talking to him through a brick wall and maybe this was it. 

 

“ Are you going to answer my questions, Thomas?” Monroe asked grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. Thomas glared at her for a second before spitting in her face. That may have been a mistake.

 

The next shock lasted longer, Thomas could feel his body convulsing. He remembered watching Newt fall or Jump. he remembered seeing him climb the walls and let go at the top. Thomas screamed again for entirely different reasons. 

 

_ Some……..going……...die.  _ Teresa's voice was barely audible in Thomas’s head. 

 

“Your something else you know that? I’ve met few other people that have lasted this long without caving.” 

 

“I'm honored.” Thomas slurred. 

 

“Yes well, it won't help you in the long run, you'll die, either way, it'll just happen quicker if you tell me what I want to know.” Thomas didn't even know what Monroe wanted at this point. “I’m not going to kill you yet,” she said and Thomases head rolled in confusion. Hadn't she just said he was going to die? 

 

Another shock went through him and Thomas  felt something snap in his brain. For a second he thought he was dying. For a second he wanted to die until he thought about his Dad and Newt laying in hospital beds until he thought of all the people that had just gotten him back. No, the snap wasn't him dying it was her, it was Teressa.

 

“Had enough yet?” Thomas could barely hear Monroe's voice when the shocks stopped. He could feel the absence of Teresa in a way he'd never felt before. She was gone, really gone and all that was left was static. Monroe didn't like that he didn't answer, he could see her walk over to the box herself and turn a dial. 

 

He wasn't sure when he finally passed out but he was grateful when he did, welcoming the darkness with open arms. 

  
  
  


Thomas woke up to the shock of cold water being thrown over his entier body. 

 

“Good morning Thomas, or should i say Stiles Stilinski, the best friend of Scott McCall and the son of Beacon Hills very own Sheriff. I heard he was in the hospital by the way.” Thomas glared at the woman who had spent days torturing him. “You see we finally found someone who was willing to talk to us. Too bad she didn't last as long as you, granted being a werewolf dose have some downfalls.” 

 

“Who,” Thomas asked, his voice horse. 

 

“Wouldnt you like to know Stiles. So now that I'm aware of who you really are why don't you start answering my questions with a little less sarcasm shall we?” 

 

“Sounds fun but really I've got somewhere to be.” Thomas didn't even know what he was saying anymore. 

 

“Funny, you're funny. Good thing I don't need you to last much longer.” Thomas did his best to hide his fear. “So first question. Where did you disappear too for over two years?” 

 

Thomas didn't say a word. She turned the dial. 

 

“What is Lydia Martin?” 

 

Thomases silence was met with electricity. And the pattern followed question, silence, screaming. Thomas wasn't even sure he was conscious anymore. Thomas knew he was dying. He could actually feel his body shutting down. The edges of his vision went black and he couldn't tell if she was still shocking him or not. His head fell forward and he let his weight rest on the restraints digging into his skin in familiar ways. 

 

Their was commotion in front of him but he couldn't bring himself to lift his head to see. His vision continued to darken until there was no light left anywhere. He wanted so badly to let go. The electricity stopped and he realized she had been shocking him the whole time. Somehow his arms were free from the restraints and he sagged aginst something solid. 

 

“Thomas?” 


	8. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please wake up Tommy.
> 
> because he had to say it at least once
> 
> “WICKED is your home.”
> 
> Thomas didn't want to die.
> 
> ‘when is a door not a door’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, my lord, I Am Sorry! but here we go to chapter eight. that last chapter of part two. please please please let me know what our thinking, leave kudos if you haven't already. I love you all who have stuck it out through the first two parts and I very much hope I see you all in the third and possibly final part of this series. Anyways, enjoy!

Thomas came to slowly, hovering just above consciousness. His mind was cloudy and the voices he could just barely hear around him came through muffled. Like he was under water, but he could feel the ground underneath him. He could feel the sun hitting his skin. He tried to remember why that was odd. Tried to remember where he was before this instant. This instant that lasted forever.

“Do you think he’s okay?”

“He’s here, isn’t he? I’m pretty sure he’s not okay.”

“Here isn’t so bad.”

Thomas felt like he knew these voices. No, he definitely knew these voices, but something was wrong. Whoever the voices belonged to, Thomas shouldn't be hearing them.

“Should we wake him up?” that voice hurt to hear, and Thomas couldn't remember why it hurt but the sound of it pushed Thomas into consciousness. He sat straight up, gulping down as much air as he could, he felt like he hadn't breathed in ages. He clutched his stomach expecting something to hurt. Something always hurt when he woke up like this didn’t it? He felt around his chest, his arms, all the while the sun burned his eyes, keeping him from seeing much. He heard a faint noise, like a soft ringing in his ears, but it was drowned out by the voices around him.

“Thomas!” he didn’t have time to take in much more of his surroundings before his arms were full of someone, a boy with curly hair, Thomas couldn’t place why he suddenly felt like crying. His arms wrapped around the shorter boy on their own He felt confused by the presence of the curly haired kid. Shouldn't he be somewhere else? Somewhere that kept Thomas from seeing him? Thomas's head hurt.

“Hey, Chuckie.” His own voice surprised him, saying the name like it was the most natural thing in the world. Chuckie, but that wasn't right. That wasn't right because Chuck wasn't around anymore, Chuck wasn't around anymore because chuck died. He died in place of Thomas. Jumped in front of a bullet to save him. Chuck was dead. Chuck had his arms wrapped around Thomas’s neck.

“Hey shank, what the shuck you doing? What happened?” Thomas pulled away from Chuck, Chuck’s alive? Chuck’s death. Then he started to look around. He was in the Glade, at least it looked almost like the glade. He could see the homestead, leaning walls and all, the farm, the path of trees he knew to be the deadheads, it looked like home. Thomas didn't stop to wonder why he saw the glade as a home instead of a prison.

 

“I came up in the box just like you,” Thomas said. It took him far too long to realize there were no walls, no giant doors, no maze. Just an endless field. It wasn't like he was refusing to connect the dots, a part of him knew how wrong this place looked. A small part, but still a part of him, knew what exactly was going on. The bigger part of him, wanted this all to be real. Wanted Winston and Zart to be real, wanted the Alby to be real. He wanted Chuck, who was still half in his lap, to be real. But it wasn’t, was it? The boys that stood around him in a half circle exchanged a look and Thomas suddenly felt very very small.

“Yeah, okay, how’s Newt?” Frypan asked, and the words hit him, actually hit him so hard in the chest, he could feel the impact like he was being hit, but Thomas remembered. Remembered Newt. He gasped and crawled backward from Chuck, scrabbling to get a hold of himself. The ringing grew louder in his ears.

“Thomas? You okay.” Chuck said slowly but Thomas didn’t hear him or didn’t want to hear him. He felt something hit his chest again. And he doubled over himself. It was like someone was trying to break his ribs.

“What is this, you, you’re all... Fry?” Thomas pulled himself together enough to look up at the boys, at his friends, and he felt tears in his eyes all over again. The reality of the situation coming into focus in ways he did not, did not, **did not**  want them to.

“Dead,” Alby said, kneeling down next to Thomas and placing his hand on his shoulder and it felt like First Day all over again. He half expected Gally to call him greenie and haul him out of the box, but there was no box, no walls, no maze. No box, no walls, no maze, no WICKED.

“I’m not...” Thomas started, shaking his head. Memories started to surface. The white room, Newt. being rescued at the end of their escape, Newt being dragged away from him. He didn't see what happened to Minho, why didn’t he see what happened to Minho? His dad, Melissa. A group of friends he couldn't remember but he wanted to, he wanted to. Derek, kissing him, hitting him, saving him, Newt. Newt was infected again, not again still. Still infected, Newt. They felt like electricity. He couldn't remember how he knew what electricity felt like and maybe that was for the best The ringing got more persistent in his ears.

“Not yet.” Alby sighed “not yet, you can’t be, you still have work to do.” Alby was smiling at him but all Thomas could see was Chuck. Chuck who was just a kid, just a child who never knew life outside the maze. His fault. All his fault. Thomas stared at Chuck who stood there smiling at him. Chuck never had a choice, his fault his fault. Thomas realized all over again the memory hitting him hard in the chest like electricity. He killed Chuck. It was **his fault.** His vision darkened like he was seeing through a tunnel.

“Chuck I'm so sorry, you didn't,” Thomas felt something hit his chest again and he couldn't breathe. “You didn't.” he gasped. You didn't have a choice, Thomas wanted to shout, he wanted to cry, he wanted to beg forgiveness, **his fault** , but he couldn't find his voice.

“Its okay,” Chuck grinned at him. Thomas wanted to scream at him, tell him it’s not okay, there's nothing okay about it. He wanted Chuck to be angry. Wanted him to realize how unfair this was. He wanted him to hate WICKED. He wanted Chuck to hate him for breaking his promise. Chuck blurred and his eyes burned he opened his mouth and nothing came out.

“Listen to me Thomas,” Alby said, forcing Thomas’s attention back to him, clamping down harder on Thomas's shoulder. “you have to go back.” Thomas felt himself nodding, but he didn't know what he was nodding to exactly. And then Alby punched him hard square in the chest sending Thomas falling backward, his head hitting the ground hard and his vision darkening, darkening.

And he was falling

  
Thomas could still hear the ringing in his ears when he stopped falling, _had he stopped falling?_  and he struggled to open his eyes, to sit up, to breathe. His lungs burned in his chest and he wondered if this was it. He was paralyzed. And the ringing in his ears got louder and louder until it was the only thing he knew, a constant high pitched ring.

His chest was hit with another shockwave, he wanted it to stop, it hurt. His lungs burned with want for air. It hurt. He wanted to go back to his friends.

It hit again and this time Thomas could breathe. He sat up, at least he thought he sat up, everything around him was still black but the ringing was less constant. Pulsating with his uneven heartbeat. He stood up, shakily at first, looking around. He recognized this place if he could even call it that, it was more of an emptiness, a void. It was the backdrop for over half of his nightmares. It wasn’t just black, it was deeper than that, darker than black, but the darkness almost felt alive, like it was flexing and folding over him. _but he could breath_

He could almost see movement out of the corner of his eyes and sometimes, sometimes he thought he could see a shape of someone or something. But he could never catch it. His breathing started to come to him easier, if by only a little, and his legs felt more solid under him. He could hear voices floating around him but couldn't make out their words.

Thomas ran. He didn’t know why he ran, he didn't know where he was running to, but he ran. He could have been running in place for all he knew the black around him never changed, only shifted around him, bending at his knees and his elbows, like it was attached to his own joints. But Thomas ran because that's all he knew to do. He was a runner, so he ran.

“Tommy.” it was the first voice that Thomas could make sense of in this empty place. But he held onto it. pushing his legs harder. He knew where he was running to now. Where he'd always been running to. Where he would forever run to. He was running to Newt.

“Please wake up Tommy.” wake up, wake up, wake up. He had to wake up, for Newt, for his dad, for all his new old friends that he had to get to know, for Minho who he had to find, for Chuck who died so he could live. He had to wake up. He had to wake up. He had to **wake up**.

“I'm here, Tommy.” the voice got louder and Thomas felt something touching him, like the ghost of a hand brushing the hair out of his face and it felt like him.

Thomas ran faster. The ringing in his ear had settled into a steady rhythm then he set his running too, turned into more of a beeping sound. Beep, beep, beep, left, right, left. He could feel it now. He could feel it under his feet, something solid, he could feel it in his heart beating against his chest with a new found strength, he could feel it in Newt’s voice as it snaked through him getting louder and louder. He flexed his fingers, curling them into fists as he ran because now he could.

Thomas could see it, or see something different in this void. It was nothing cheesy like a light in the middle of the darkness but it was him, it was Newt just standing there. Grinning in the way that Thomas had only seen once before. It was right when he came up in the box, Newt had been one of the first people he had seen, he wasn't smiling then, it was later, after Thomas ran, after Thomas fell, he remembered the group of boys running to him, laughing and Newt was among them, granted he was behind the main group, he had a limp. But his smile was the biggest and most beautiful he thought he'd ever seen. The memory fueled him to close the remaining few feet. To reach out. To touch Newt.

Thomas fell.

His feet tangling under him only he didn't hit the ground at Newts feet, he fell through it, tumbling over himself reaching out for something to grab onto. Watching Newt disappear above him.

“Please don't die on me Tommy” the words were so much quieter and Thomas’s heart broke with the voice. He was so close, so close **so close**.

The impact was unexpected. Unexpected in that Thomas couldn't see it. Unexpected in how much it hurt, landing on nothingness, it jarred his entire body. His bones ached and his joints protested. Unexpected when it knocked the wind out of him. But there was something else. A sound.

A sound that sent chills down his spine. It was like laughter, like hollow laughter that Thomas couldn't remember ever hearing before. A sound that Thomas couldn’t remember not hearing. A sound that made him want to scream. It was the last thing he heard in that place, in that void. Before he lost consciousness if that even was what he had in the first place.

 

Thomas opened his eyes to bright light and white ceilings. He didn't panic like he'd done the first time he woke up to this view. He breathed, wincing when his chest pulled tight but still he breathed as deeply as he could. That's all he did for awhile, either unable or unwilling to move much more than that. He knew when he did the hurt would be much harder to ignore. It was like his entire body had been set on fire. And he guessed, in a way, it had.

Thomas didn't know how he got out of that place, or how he even survived in the first place, he didn’t know how long he'd been in the hospital or even how long he was with Monroe. There were few things that Thomas did know.

One, someone told Monroe who he was, who he used to be and whoever that person was, is dead. Someone else is dead. And it was his fault.

Two, he should not have survived any of that.

And three, the connection between him and WICKED, the thing they put in his head, was fried. Thomas could only assume that this meant they couldn't control him, they couldn't block his memories, Teresa couldn't talk to him. And while that was all good news, it also meant they'd go to more extremes to get him back. That meant more people died and for what? A cure for a disease that they created? A disease that hasn't touched any other part of the world. There was so much left that still didn't make sense. So much that he needed answers for and there was only one place he was going to get them. Even if the idea turned his stomach, even if no one would allow it. He had to get his answers.

Thomas pulled himself up, ignoring his body's protest. He ignored the pull of the IVs on his arms, he had every intention of ripping them out and getting out of here, away from anyone that might still be in the hospital, away from innocent people that would only get in WICKEDs way when they came for him. The surprising thing was he wasn't scared. Not of WICKED. He knew exactly what could happen to him when he went back. He knew it would be horrible but he didn’t fear it.

Thomas managed to put his feet on the floor before he had to stop to collect himself. He supposed it made sense, it would probably take his body a minute to remember how to walk after someone tried to cook him. Honestly, Thomas thought, what could be worse than that?

 

  
“Tommy.” Thomas didn't notice when the door opened while he was trying to stand. He didn't move. It was hard to admit to himself that he was scared to look. He didn't know what he would see if it would be WICKED’s puppet or the boy from the glade he’d fallen in love with. So instead of facing it, he stared at his bare feet against the cold floor and hands that were clutching the edge of the bed so tight his knuckles matched the sheets until his vision blurred. He screwed his eyes closed then and tried to breathe without releasing the sob stuck in his throat. He heard movement before he felt hands on his knees. “Tommy look at me.” he wanted to, god he'd never wanted anything more in his life, but he was so scared. His breath caught in his throat with the sob.

“I can’t” Thomas wasn't sure if he said it out loud but he knew he was thinking it. He couldn't, because as soon as he did Newt would be gone, everything would be gone and he'd be alone again. He knew it as well as he knew anything. And when the hands on his knees disappeared Thomas sobbed out loud because he was right, he was right and Newt was gone now.

A hand cupped his face, lightly, hesitantly, then another on the other side. They were tilting his head up and he was too busy sobbing to fight them. Not that he would have in the first place.

Then there were lips against his. This was nothing like the last few times Thomas had been kissed. This took his breath away, in the best way. His eyes fluttered open on their own and he was looking at Newt, not a dream, not a puppet, not anything other than Newt, and Newt was kissing him. He was kissing him and all Thomas could do was stare at his closed eyes. Newt kissed him until the only thing Thomas knew was Newt. Until his hands relaxed their grip on the bed. until he could breathe again, but couldn’t at the same time because he didn't want to pull away from him, from Newt.

Until Newt pulled away.

And for half a second Thomas panicked, thinking he would disappear before his eyes.

But he didn't disappear. He didn't disappear. He was standing here in front of Thomas.

But just in case Thomas lifted a shaky hand to Newt’s face. Newt leaned into Thomas's touch and the last of Thomas's fear fell away.

“Tommy, i” Newt’s eyes were dark, they always got darker when he was worried, or sad, or angry. They were still beautiful, always beautiful. Thomas rubbed circles on newts cheek with his thumb.

“Its okay, I'm okay.” Thomas found himself saying, whether it was true or not because Thomas would always do anything for Newt.

 

Thomas wanted this moment to last forever.

They stood there in silence. It was all Thomas could do to look at Newt, his beautiful brown eyes that were so, so warm they might as well have been the sun. he couldn't look away. Because this is what he'd been fighting for. Newt. okay, and healthy and now that they were together again they could face anything.

“I thought I’d lost you, Tommy,” Newt said, breaking the silence.

“I thought id lost you a long time ago,” Thomas replied remembering the way Newt had looked at him. Not when he was being controlled by WICKED. Not when he shot his dad, but when he had told Thomas he hated him. When he’d told Thomas to kill him. He never thought he could have had this moment with Newt.

“You're never losing me, Tommy, the things I said to you, the things I did, I’m so bloody sorry Tommy.” Newt took a step backward and took all his warmth with him, leaving Thomas shivering.

“Hey, it wasn’t you, none of it was you.” Thomas let his hand drop from Newt’s face only to grab Newt’s hand and gently pull him back to his spot between Thomas's knees.

“It was, though. And I’m so bloody, so-” Thomas cleaned up as much as he could, pressing his lips to Newts. Newt hesitated, making Thomas pull away, searching Newt’s eyes. They were staring at each other only mere centimeters apart when the door swung open.

Newt took a small step back but didn’t let go of his hand.

“Thomas! Oh,” Thomas looked up at Derek standing in the doorway. His eyes were wide and he could see Derek’s hands trembling at his side, and he wanted to do something, anything, to still them.

“I, I just,” Thomas had never heard Derek talk like this. He’d always been so sure with his words, with everything really. The most Thomas had ever seen him show any emotion was when Derek kissed him and even that, he was guarded. Now Derek stood half in the doorway of his hospital room with his mouth hanging slightly open looking like he wanted to be anywhere but right there at this particular moment.

“Derek.” Thomas started because he knew, didn't he? He knew that they’d had something in the past, the kiss had proven that. But what could Thomas do about it now?

“Wait, you’re Derek?” Newt asked before Thomas could say anything else. “You’re the one that saved Thomas from that place right?” Derek closed his mouth and Thomas could see his jaw clench as he nodded. This was new information to Thomas. “Thank you.” Newt started to walk to Derek but Thomas held onto his hand, pulling him back. Newt looked at him with a question in his eyes. Nut otherwise stayed put.

“Yeah. well. I have to go for a while.” Derek looked right at Thomas with cold hard eyes when he said this, and Thomas tried to ignore the disappointment that settled in his stomach. Then he was gone.

“Newt,” Thomas looked up at him.

“You need to rest Tommy. You almost didn’t make it and now here you are about to pull your bloody IVs out.” Newt gently pushed Thomas back into the bed and Thomas let himself be taken care of.

 

Thomas didn’t sleep that night, he watched Newt slowly drift into sleep instead. He watched the rise and fall of his chest. He listened to his breathing and when he was sure he was sound asleep Thomas slid out of bed. He investigated the IV bag, it was nearly empty so he pulled the tubes out, albeit more gently than the last time. He found clothes someone must have brought for him and pulled them on as quietly as he could. His body still ached and his hands shook with the effort.

He paused in the doorway, his hands on either side of the threshold. What if this was the last time? What if he never saw him again? Thomas thought as he glanced over the shoulder at Newt, sleeping soundly against the bed. He was so beautiful when he slept.

“I love you” Thomas whispered because he had to say it at least once. Even if Newt would never hear it, he had to say it.

The hallways in the hospital were nearly empty. A few nurses passed him but none seemed to pay him any attention. His footsteps were too loud they echoed in his ears as he made his way down the hall. His palms were sweating and he kept looking behind him sure he'd see someone following him. He had to get out of here as fast as he could. But first, he had one more stop to make.

He found His dad's room easily, it was down the hall from his own. He stared at the name tag, ‘Noah Stilinski’. Thomases hands were shaking as he reached for the door handle. He glanced around before slipping into the room, and pulled the door closed silently. He couldn’t move, He stood there one hand on the door handle and the other on the doorframe and he couldn’t move.

“Son?” The Sheriff's voice sounded heavy “Son, is that you?” like he wasn't quite awake. Thomas stared at the wood of the door, leaning his forehead on it.

“No, you're just dreaming dad,” he said barely loud enough for the man to hear him.

“You're leaving?” Thomas pushed himself off the door and turned to face his dad.

“You're dreaming.” Thomas felt a tear fall down his cheek and ignored it.

“No, you're leaving. Its okay Stiles, its okay I understand.” Thomas almost choked on a sob.

“Go back to sleep.” Thomas took a few steps closer and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“I love you son.” Thomas left the paper folded into four on the table by the bed.

“Good night dad.” Thomas didn't stay, didn’t wait to hear if his dad said anything else.

  
He shouldn't have been surprised. Nothing should really surprise him anymore. He walked out of the hospital into the parking lot and he saw her immediately. She wasn't looking at him, but he had a feeling she knew he was here. Even if they weren’t connected anymore it didn't mean she didn't know him. He didn't see any point in putting it off any longer, he walked up beside her.

“Hi Tom.” he could feel her eyes on him.

“Teresa.”

“Are you coming home?” she asked. The air was cold and Thomas glanced behind him at the Hospital.

“No, I'm leaving home,” he responded, looking at her for the first time.

“WICKED is your home.”

“You have to promise you'll leave everyone here alone.” She smirked at him, Thomas wasn't the kind of guy that would ever hit a girl but he’d never felt more tempted than right now.

“You mean your boyfriend?”

“Teresa. You leave them all alone or I'm not coming with you.”

“I don't know tom. Your track record with keeping your word doesn't seem too good does it?”

“That was different.” he started.

“You left me there Tom! You left me there!” Teressa was yelling now and Thomas was grateful it was so late, or maybe it was early.

“I didn’t have a choice, they weren't exactly offering to let us stay. Do we have a deal or not?” Teresa started to laugh.

“And what makes you think you have a choice?” she asked in between giggles. “What makes you think that you have any place to stand here tom?” he didn't like the way she said that. He started to look around for someone he may have missed. “You don't get a choice anymore tom.”

Thomas felt something stick in his neck. He felt it but he didn't know where it came from. His hand flew up feeling the needle sticking out of his neck and he wondered how he’d let himself be so stupid. He pulled it out and looked from it to Teresa.

“You don't get to choose anymore,” Teresa said again. It looked like the world was spinning as Teressa fell away from him, or he fell away from her, he couldn't be sure.

Thomas felt he should be used to falling. Used to landing on hard surfaces. Used to losing his breath.

It was empty and suffocating in the place he opened his eyes, just like it always was and for a moment Thomas contemplated death.

Thomas didn't want to die. But what were the chances hed escape WICKED again? And what kind of life is that?

Thomas didn't want to die, but maybe he didn't want to live either.

Thomas didn't want to die, but maybe he did. 

Maybe he did.

‘Oh, you don't really want to die, do you?’ Thomas jumped to his feet, looking around for the owner of the voice.

‘After everything you've survived, you’re going to call it quits now.’ the voice floated around him ominously. Thomas spun around in circles looking for the source of the voice, feeling the black fold around him like fabric.

“Who are you?” he shouted into the black abyss.

‘Oh Stiles, you don't remember me? I mean forgetting everything else, I get. But forget me? Me? I'm a thousand years old, Stiles. You cant forget me.’ the voice was everywhere, like the sound itself was pressing into him.

“My name is not Stiles.”

‘Your name hardly matters. Do you want to hear a riddle? When is a door not a door?’ Thomas stood there dumbstruck.

‘When is a door not a door.’ ‘when is a door not a door’ the phrase bounced around Thomas, ricocheting off invisible walls and hitting him full force.

“Who are you?” he shouted again spinning around looking for some sign that he wasn't alone. A figure appeared in front of him out of nowhere and Thomas fell back.

‘I’m you, Stiles’ and Thomas saw himself standing above him. Only his hair stood on end and there were dark circles around his eyes.

“No.”

‘No? No? That's funny Stiles. You know it hurt, after all, I've done to keep you alive, to keep us alive and you really have no idea what I am? What you are?’ Thomas shook his head and turned away from the mirror image of himself. He felt sick to his stomach.

‘Don't worry stiles, you'll answer my question sooner or later.’ the thing wearing his face laughed, the sound filled the space like there were millions of him.

“What question?” Thomas snapped and all the laughter immediately stopped. Everything falling into an eerie silence. Thomas felt a hand on his chin, forcing his head to turn.

‘When is a door not a door?’ he leaned in to whisper it inches away from Thomas's face. He disappeared in front of Thomas as he talked, his body fading to nothing until the darkness had swallowed him whole and Thomas was left hearing echoes of ‘when is a door not a door’

 

 

 


End file.
